


Disparate Pieces

by cuddlesome



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Breasts, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drabble Collection, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Ghost(s), Imprisonment, Masks, Masturbation, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2019-09-06 21:08:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 22,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlesome/pseuds/cuddlesome
Summary: Reuploading fics originally posted to tumblr to the safe haven that is ao3.





	1. Kylo's scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deleted my tumblr mostly because I was already kind of fed up with it. The latest announcement about censorship was just the final nail in the coffin. HOWEVER I of course saved all of my fics before jumping ship. I will be slowly uploading them every few days so as to not oversaturate the market with my Brand™ and give individual warnings in the notes where necessary.
> 
> All that said, this first one was originally posted in mid-2016. It was to answer a prompt from dustoftheancients--"The first time Rey gets a good look at all of Kylo's scars." Blood, mild gore, and self-harm warning, my dudes.

Kylo Ren’s clothes always struck Rey as layered just for the sake of making himself seem even more formidable than he already was. If that was the purpose, Rey thought, then it worked. His robes made him look huge and ethereal as the layers twisted over themselves when he fought, always revealing another sheet of cloth but never his skin. Endless layering of dark clothing because, well, how else was he meant to project to the galaxy that he was bad news with his mere presence?

Aside from the helmet, the lightsaber, the temper, etc.

In any case, she did not suspect that he was hiding something underneath all of those clothes.

Midway through a fight on Ylesia, one in which they had focused on naught but each other as their sabers clashed, a Reek charged out of the jungle and turned the fight very much in Rey’s favor. Kylo was slashed from one of his hips to his sternum by the creature’s middlemost tusk and swiftly trampled once he fell.

Instead of being rational and letting nature take its course and kill him, Rey listened to her feelings. She dragged him to safety by the foot into the thick of the jungle’s underbrush, dodging the Reek as she went with a series of shouts and swipes with her lightsaber. When she finally found safety amidst an uneven ring of trees in a tiny clearing, Kylo had gone completely unconscious.

“Oh, come on, you’ve been through worse than this,” Rey tried to assure both him and herself as she propped his back against a tree trunk while she settled on her knees in front of him. “I know, I was the one who did it to you.”

No response, not even from his mind. Kylo Ren’s huge, dark-clothed body didn’t look so formidable while he was so bloodied up and limp.

Rey peeled a bit of the torn fabric from the gaping wound where the Reek had slashed him. “Blast.”

It was worse than she thought. Rey had treated and bandaged up her share of open wounds after a few bad falls on Jakku, but few of the animals were vicious or fast-moving enough to inflict damage such as this. The medkit she had in the pack at her hip might not have enough supplies to help him.

Rey unwrapped his cowl from around his shoulders to get it out of the way, then upon second thought used it to pillow his head despite the immediate feeling of foolishness for caring for his comfort. She probed the wound on his torso with her fingers and attempted to extricate the bits of torn cloth, but there was nothing for it. The weave simply made it too difficult to do. She would have to take the tunic off.

Unfortunately for her, Kylo chose that moment to come to life with wide, lolling eyes that went into intense focus only when they landed on her face. Rey drew her hand back. Kylo scowled as she wiggled her bloodied fingers in a wave at him.

“You’re welcome, by the way, for saving your worthless life.”

“Why would you help me?”

“The Force,” Rey responded smoothly, figuring the omnipresent energy was as good as anything else to blame her lapse in judgement on. “I need to take your tunic off so I can treat this gash.”

Despite the warning, he attempted to bite her when she located and reached for the zipper at his throat. Rey only resisted the urge to deck him with a deep breath and a reminder that he had already gotten a dose of karma from the Reek.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Rey said, then added, “not for the moment.”

“Don’t touch me.”

Kylo’s level of anger thrumming in the Force made it seem as though he was trying to snarl to scare her off, but his voice came out as more of a croak. The Reek may have very well kicked him in the throat or stepped on some tender part of his guts when it attacked him. His face looked grayish. He was absolutely, wholeheartedly pathetic.

“Are you done being unreasonable?” Rey asked, feeling less charitable by the moment.

Kylo exhaled heavily through his nose. He lifted his chin and allowed her to pull down the zipper on the high collar, shutting his eyes. Rey bit her lip as she caught sight of discoloration on his otherwise bone white neck. Next to the deep trail of the scarring she had inflicted with Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber there were smaller, raised ridges, not caused by any weapon or animal that Rey could think of. They were shallow but an angry red, crisscrossing over one another, extending from the sides and over the lump of his laryngeal prominence. Their size and depth indicated that they were caused by human fingernails.

Rey swallowed her questions and focused on the task at hand, unzipping his tunic the rest of the way and spreading the sides open, then the second layer of his gambeson. While the blood-soaked cut drew her attention first, it had an amalgamation of discolored, uneven skin surrounding it. More scratches from fingernails, flecks of burn marks, places where stitches had messily healed and left unsightly lumps—these were not battle scars. The huge jam-colored splotch where he had been shot in the side with the bowcaster looked almost tame in comparison to the dozens of tiny injuries all spread across his belly, sides, chest, and neck.

“Why would you do this to yourself?” Rey asked in a small voice.

Kylo cracked one eye open. “I didn’t demand that that beast attack me.”

“Don’t be thick. Why? Why do this?”

Kylo shut his eye. “Stitch me back together and maybe I’ll live to tell you, scavenger.”

Rey scowled, but knew that he had a point. She tore her gaze away from the ghastly sight to dig through the medkit and pulled out the appropriate supplies. She had nothing in the way of painkillers or anesthesia. Her hands shook as she went through the procedure. Kylo, to his credit, did not scream, but Rey had to wonder at the cost. The dark side pulsed strongly around him as she made each stitch and only waned a little when she applied a thick coating of bacta and an entire roll of bandages

“Why?” Rey asked again as she dabbed leftover bacta with her fingertips on some of the fresher small wounds on his torso, treating the burns and nicks to more of the soothing goo than they probably needed.

Kylo sneered but said nothing to stop her. “Do you remember on Starkiller when I struck at the wound on my side?”

The vivid memory of Kylo striking at his side with a series of heavy thumps until it dripped blood on the snow surfaced in Rey’s mind. “Yes.”

“I usually do that on a smaller scale, to become one with the darkness. It’s a part of my training.”

“Has it ever occurred to you how horrible that is?” Rey could not imagine purposefully hurting her body, her body which had carried her through years of abuse on Jakku.

“It makes me strong. Helps me focus. I’ve done it since I was a child.” Dimly, Rey thought that it was a good thing that he was being so chatty, since it was a sign of recovery, but his talking points were not as encouraging. “With my fingernails, with my lightsaber, with whatever sharp objects I can get shallow enough to not hit on anything important. Unless, of course, it is during especially intense training, then I might risk digging in deeper.”

Rey clapped a hand over her mouth, shut her eyes, and dry heaved. The combination of the smell of his blood, the bacta, and the idea of him hurting himself that way all throughout his life was too much. When she opened her eyes again, Kylo continued on conversationally as if she had not had such a bad reaction.

“I never touched my face, though. Misplaced vanity. All of this…” He gestured to his face with one hand, smiling grimly. “…it isn’t worth preserving. You took the decision to keep my face clear of injuries away, though.”

Rey frowned deeply, smearing a bit of bacta on his face in spite of the scarring there being long since healed over into a neigh irreparable mess. Kylo narrowed his eyes at her pitying look but did not resist her touch as she cupped his cheek.


	2. Trapped in a net/groping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M-rated type of one this time, no outright sex but getting pretty handsy.

Kylo’s attempt to use the element of surprise to his advantage while approaching Rey on Endor works only somewhat. He doesn’t account for the possibility of Rey accidentally jostling the hunk of meat impaled on a tree that she inspects when he comes up behind her. But she does, and Kylo notices the net beneath them too late, so they find themselves in a compromising situation after a series of shouting and squirming and lightsaber-dropping later.

Being caught in a hunting trap, much less an Ewok hunting trap, is far, far beneath Kylo Ren. And yet, here he is, one long leg stuck awkwardly outside of the suspended net, the other caught up underneath him in a way that he knows for certain will begin to cramp soon, and his arms holding the net’s other occupant.

Rey seems to be in a state of furious shock. She is curled up in an almost-ball in the amount of space left in the net, which also happens to be Kylo’s lap. Kylo can feel the soft press of the side of a breast on his ribs and the firm sculpt of her ass on his thigh. If it had been difficult for him to resist her charms before, it is near-impossible now.

One of her hair buns is just under his nose, adorable and shiny and smelling of lavender. She’d smelled very grimy the first time he got close enough to smell her hair in the interrogation room. Understandable. Later, once she joined the Resistance, she had gotten access to proper hair care, an aspect of the ragtag troupe of rebels Kylo could begrudgingly appreciate. A couple of fruity and flowery scents noticeably clung to her when they fought.

She wriggles in his grasp and attempts to turn away from him, jostling his quickly-falling-asleep leg.

“I’m going to find my lightsaber,” Rey says in what is a fairly dignified tone given their ridiculous situation. “Don’t get comfortable. Our fight isn’t over, creature.”

“Did you want to try to wrestle in here, scavenger?” Kylo asks dryly, only to inhale sharply as she rubs her ass back and forth against his crotch as she shifts.

They do end up fruitlessly wrestling and bickering a bit as Rey tries to look for the perfect angle to stick an arm out and pull her saber to her with the Force. More than once their bodies end up sliding up against each other, hard masses of lean muscle under the supple blue cloth on Rey meeting the coarse, tightly woven monks’ cloth molded to Kylo’s thicker body. The ropes cutting into Kylo’s back don’t seem quite as bothersome as her bicep brushes by his face, the soft cloth brushing his nose while her sun-worn, tickly-haired skin is against his lips.

Rey feels it too—the tension between their entangled bodies. He knows she does. She tenses up, not with fear, but with something far more tantalizing when his touches become more deliberate instead of accidental. His gloved hand stays on her shoulder a moment too long as he helps her turn around, then slides down to where he fans it out against her lower back. Rey doesn’t say she likes it, but she doesn’t say anything against it, either. Forever trying to ignore the connections between them, Kylo thinks as he runs the tip of his pointer up and down the ridges of her spine. For the barest moment, Rey arches her spine and makes a noise that Kylo dares to believe is a whine before shaking her head.

She begins to slow her movements as she ends up near-upside down and on her hands and knees in her attempt to face the forest floor to search for her weapon. Her legs are on either side of Kylo and her ass presses against his stomach while she lays her torso on his thighs.

“I can’t see anything,” she mutters. “There’s too much undergrowth. Kriffing pfassk—”

She starts to shift again. Her breasts slide against his leg. He groans low in his throat and she freezes, then repeats the movement, rubbing her clothed breasts against him hard enough that he can feel her erect nipples through the layers of cloth. Crushed together as they are, Kylo can feel her breathing becoming shallower and quicker and the race of her pulse.

Kylo rubs her back again, gauging her tenseness. “Do you… like this?”

“Why would I like anything having to do with you?” Rey asks, but her voice lacks the usual level of acidity.

Kylo bends at the waist so that the hard wall of his stomach more firmly presses against her ass.

“You seem unsure, scavenger.” He lowers his voice. “Let me touch you.”

Rey snorts. “Why stop now?”

Kylo chooses to take this as the closest thing to permission he’ll get. He puts his gloved hands on either side of her, rubbing his thumbs over her ribs and relishing her shiver. Next, he slides his hands further down until they’re sandwiched between his legs and her belly. Slowly, waiting for any negative signs from Rey, he pushes them up until he’s cupping her breasts.

Kylo licks his lips as he squeezes the tip of one breast between thumb and forefinger until he’s squishing her nipple. “No bra?”

“What’s a bra?”

“Nothing. Don’t ever wear one, it’ll strangle you in space.”

He has to refrain from commenting on how small her tits are, barely big enough to fill his palms. It’s probably that she’s normal-sized and he’s too large, really.

Leaning back in the net, Kylo pulls her so she’s sitting up in his lap again, her back to his front. Rey moves her legs so that they’re forward-facing and sticking out of the net next to one of his. She squirms a bit as he tucks his head over her shoulder, but it’s half-hearted, and she stills when he grabs hold of her tits again with only a hiss and a curse so quiet he can barely make it out. Kylo kneads and squishes the two bits of softness on her otherwise firm body, teasing them to the point of her nipples protruding through her shirt.

“Kylo.”

He stills, but doesn’t let go. He probably should, in preparation for her telling him to, but he wants to prolong touching her for as long as possible.

“I’m going to take my shirt off.”

Kylo attempts to make himself smaller so Rey has plenty of room to lay back in the net as she peels her vest and the tank underneath off. She hesitates all the time, looking at Kylo out of the corner of her eye for assurance or perhaps just reminding herself that her enemy is watching her strip. The clothes are discarded in a squished pile to one side of the net.

Rey’s breasts bounce and wobble adorably with the initial impact of her taking her shirt off. Kylo has to restrain himself from reaching back out and groping them again right then and there, restraining himself with the idea that Rey is nervous enough as it is.

Amidst her sun-darkened skin, Rey’s chest is noticeably paler. She must never have had the occasion to sunbathe in the scorching heat or cared enough about beauty standards to want her skin tone to be the same all over. Kylo loves the splotchy, uneven effect that it has.

Her nipples are almond-brown and wider than Kylo might have expected. A few dark pinpricks of freckles dot around and on top of her areolas.

Kylo unfurls himself from the squashed position he’d put himself into to allow her to change and the room left in the net is very small again. Their bodies run up against each other almost immediately. He forgoes much in the way of groping in his eagerness, cupping the undersides of her breasts mostly in preparation for keeping them still as he leans in to suck on one of them. Rey mewls and tangles one hand in his hair while the other steadies her against his shoulder.

Kylo can feel every time that Rey tenses and contradictorily every time that she loosens with their bodies crushed together as they are. He responds accordingly, finding out that she prefers rough suction over licks, for one thing.

He brushes against her mind at one point because really he’s better at reading thoughts than body language and he can feel the slightest bit of fear threading through her.

Kylo lets go of her breast with a wet pop and leans his forehead against it. “There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Rey’s grip on his hair gets a little rougher. “Not now, anyway.”

“Not ever.” He blows a puff of air over her saliva-slicked nipple, relishing her shiver.

“You almost shoved me off of a cliff.”

Kylo circles her areola with the tip of his tongue. “Almost.”

“Stop trying to distract me—you’re disgusting and evil—” Rey’s bitter, angry words contradict how she hugs his head even closer to her as he sucks on her breast and hums around it.

Evil? Kylo wonders at that. Disgusting, yes, he agrees to that as he squishes her breasts together to form cleavage before smooshing his face into it. If he is evil, though, then the Force is rather cruel to end up continually bringing them together. Having Rey bodily tangled around him, his mouth on her tits, trapped in a kriffing Ewok net of all things, is far better than when they fight and end up separated by giant, lava-filled gorges and Kylo walks away with fetid wounds.


	3. Medieval AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of mild canon-typical violence and blood. Written for politicalmamaduck prompting "medieval AU."

The edge of Kylo Ren’s blade, jaggedly chipped beyond repair and blood red, hovers near Rey’s throat. It is stained with the blood of a thousand enemies and a thousand more allies that he betrayed, or so the story went.

Rey does not know that she believes all of the stories anymore. He cannot even bring himself to kill a rogue who made the mistake of stealing his grandfather’s sword from him.

Then again, he may just be exhausted. He’s suffocating in his armor. Despite his attempts to disguise it, it weighs him down. It’s miraculous he was able to catch and disarm her without the assistance of a horse. Hot, heavy breaths slide from holes in his bevor and brush her face. Rey stares the knight down, seeking the glint of his eyes inside the dark eyeslit of his helm, some trace of humanity. She finds none.

“‘Thou shalt not recoil before thine enemy,’” Rey says, arching an eyebrow at him and trying to hide the slight tremble in her voice. “That is how it goes, right?”

Of course, Kylo does not come off as an especially chivalrous knight, but goading him to attack would be better than this purgatory they are in.

“Give it back.” His voice rumbles as it reverberates in his helmet.

Rey is not about to tell him she gave the legendary blue blade back to an equally legendary figure days ago. It would not do to put Luke Skywalker at risk.

“Show me your face,” she says instead.

He tilts his helm. “What?”

“Before you kill me to reclaim your birthright,” Rey says, playing with the edge of her kirdle, trying to smoothen out her glare a bit in favor of something dreamier, “let me see the face of the most powerful knight in the land.”

What drivel. Rey doubts he will buy her awkward attempt at seduction. She wouldn’t if she were him; that sort of tacky line was meant to be delivered by ladies of the court, not ragamuffin orphan girls.

But then, to her surprise, he reaches up with the hand not occupied with holding his sword and hooks it around the edge of his helm. Rey’s breath catches. She cannot believe her luck.

In the split second of blindness as Ren removes his helmet, Rey rushes him and yanks on his sword arm. His heavy armor aids her where her own slight weight will not suffice in knocking him on his back. She follows him down, landing with a painful clang on top of his piecemeal armor.

Ren’s helmet bounces the rest of the way off with the impact. Rey hardly notices, preoccupied as she is with wrestling his sword from him. She succeeds in taking his weapon and pointing it at him before she notices his exposed face.

Of the features she imagined the fearsome Kylo Ren to have, an imperfect amalgamation of awkwardness and handsomeness are not among them. Rey blinks, but he looks no less comely to her.

Ren looks at her with parted lips and wide brown eyes before his face hardens a bit and he murmurs, “Tricky wench.”

Brought back to reality with the slight, Rey scoffs and replies, “Foolish swain.”

Ren has not fought back despite the ample recovery time. Perhaps he believes she presents no threat. His mistake. She finds an opening in his armor and presses the tip of his sword to it, wedging open a slot above his placart where she can drive the blade between his ribs.

And so comes the part in the tale where the heroine is meant to slay the dark knight. Rey grits her teeth when she finds she cannot fulfill her role. He is just too pathetic, staring up at her with shock and petty anger writ large over his strange features. It would have been easier when he was a terrifying, faceless knight, a monster chasing her. Now she is presented with a human man’s face and does not know what to do.

Following a sudden impulse, she shifts her grip on the sword and slashes it upward instead of stabbing him. Her effort is rewarded with an agonized shout and blood bubbling up from the nasty gash splitting his cheek messily in two.

And still he is good-looking. Damn. Maybe she should have aimed for his eyes or nose. She gets no chance to try again. Ren finally looks intent on fighting back, making a grab for her. In an attempt to add insult to injury, paltry as the injury ended up being, Rey takes his sword as she rolls off of the knight and flees.


	4. Body Swap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nudity and vague allusion to urinating and talk of sexual stuff. All around should probably be rated M but not like a hard M.

A Force bond is a tempting thing. The idea of reaching out to Rey across the stars, of slipping into her presence in the Force with the familiarity as if it was his own, is always present in the back of Kylo Ren’s mind. He comes from a long, proud line of people who were very, very bad at resisting some form of temptation or the other. It is inevitable, then, that at some point he goes too far.

Kylo can feel Rey having a very pleasant dream as he attempts to sleep onboard the Finalizer at zero two hundred hours. Despite his exhaustion, he cannot sleep with her emotions running wild on the other end of their bond. He reaches out with the Force, intending only to perhaps soothe her into being quieter so he can concentrate. The fact that deep down he knows she probably will not find his touch soothing notwithstanding, he gets swept up in her feelings. Lightyears away, her body shifts against a mattress, unused to its softness but not entirely displeased by it.

After a moment of hovering, Kylo can feel what’s made her so restless: a wet dream. He chomps down on his lip. If he concentrates hard enough, he can see the tantalizing images in her mind’s eye. If he concentrates even harder, he can feel the way she squirms, the soft sheen of sweat on her body, and her pulse racing as if it is his own—

—and then it is his own.

Kylo sits up with a gasp, one which is high-pitched enough that it startles him into gasping again. He grimaces as he rubs at his eyes with the back of his wrist, hoping to dispel whatever strange dream the Force had put upon him, only to freeze with the realization that the bridge of his nose feels different. Smaller. He touches his nose with one hand, then presses the other to his cheek. Next, he registers the far more pressing matter of wet heat between his legs. As he looks down, he catches sight of small, soft swells on his chest beneath a plain tunic. Breasts.

Rey’s breasts, Kylo thinks with something like glee as he gives in to the childish urge to trace one of the erect nipples standing at attention beneath the fabric with one of his roughly calloused fingertips. More probing allows him to discover the exact thickness of the muscle roping over her slim body, the soft down of hair that covers every inch of her, and, once his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, the amount of freckles that speckle her skin. Adorable.

He strips off the tunic to examine himself more thoroughly, recognizing that this will no doubt be one of few, if any, times he will be able to test his enemy’s body for weaknesses while this exposed. The cold air in the small military quarters—he must be in a Resistance base, he thinks with a bit of dread—does not help distract Kylo from the wetness between his legs. It’s not his fault that her body is horny, he contends to himself as he rubs her upper thighs together a bit.

Rey, meanwhile, is made aware of the switch when she wakes up with an erect penis between her legs. None of the rest of Kylo Ren’s body that she takes in initially, not the length of her limbs nor her bulky muscles nor the thicket of dark hair on her head or her flat, broad chest compare to her shock at seeing and feeling his erection. She does not know what to do about it and numbly resolves to ignore it as she processes what has happened, only to be confronted by the more familiar and uncomfortable sensation of a full bladder.

After stumbling around the darkness of his chambers (for surely that is where she is) in the nude, she locates the ’fresher. The erection still bobs between her legs like a constant, horrifying reminder of the utter wrongness of her situation and Rey is forced to confront it. She sits down on the toilet out of habit, then stands back up immediately after discovering how uncomfortable it is to have the hot, throbbing organ between her legs anywhere near the cold bowl.

Rey curses herself for always being prudish when it came to seeing men urinate in public on Jakku as she turns to face the toilet. How did they do it? Reaching toward the apex of her thighs—his thighs?—with long-fingered, awkward hands, Rey tries to figure out how to hold Kylo Ren’s kriffing dick so she can take a kriffing piss.

It is only once Rey takes care of the basic need that the surreality of the situation finally dawns on her. She reaches out with her mind in the Force to contact the Hutt-spawn who is undoubtedly taking up residence in her body, but gets distracted as she catches sight of herself in the mirror. Unsurprisingly, Kylo Ren’s scarred, boorish countenance stares back. Her attempt to make him less intimidating by making a face and sticking his tongue out did little to help. She looks away, concentrating instead on the rest of his body (aside from his penis, of course, because she had gotten more than enough of that. It’s still goddamn partially erect).

While Rey has always appreciated practicality over aesthetics, there is something to be said for the appeal of his muscular abdominal muscles. And his pecs. And his arms. And–she could go on. More subtly there are the smaller details; the raised moles, the scars, the particular shade of pink that his nipples are.

Rey leaves the ’fresher after she catches sight of a mortified blush staining Kylo’s pale face as she washes her hands. 

Figuring out how to put on his clothes is nightmarish. Rey can appreciate layering, but there are far too many similar-looking black pieces. As she figures out how to attach the suspenders, Kylo finally responds to her outcry in the Force with a similar problem to hers:

“How are you meant to put on this wrap?”

They each obtain a ship from their respective bases with only minor snags (“Odd of you to forego the helmet, Ren.” “Yes, well, I felt like a change.” “Mom—I mean—General…” “Oh, Rey, that’s sweet of you.”) and meet up on an isolated planet.

The first thing Rey thinks is that she must look tiny from Kylo’s perspective. She knows that for all intents and purposes she is rangy, but she is of fairly average height. It hardly seems to mean much when she’s looking down at herself from nearly a foot up.

“You,” she growls, “give me my body back.”

“Hello to you too, Rey,” Kylo says, and it’s surreal to hear her Coruscanti-accented voice carrying so much sarcasm when saying her own name. “You didn’t shave.”

Rey scratches the stubble on her unscarred cheek and says defensively, “I’ve never shaved before.”

She hadn’t trusted herself not to cut up his face any more than she already had. Not that she cared much for the state of Kylo Ren’s beauty.

“Besides, you’re one to talk,” Rey says. “You didn’t put my hair up.”

She is not about to admit that her hair looks kind of pretty hanging in the carefully combed style he has it in. In fact, despite the aggressive way Kylo holds himself, legs braced apart, shoulders back, and hands curled into fists, he looks almost endearing in her body.

She looks endearing, too, Kylo thinks as he catches the gist of her thoughts. The tenseness of his body is gone in favor of a looser, easier confidence with Rey in charge, evidence of her poise and energy-conservation as a scavenger.

After more lowkey admiration of each other, they end up having sex while still stuck in the wrong bodies. Really, they’re both curious and moderately vain enough for it to work, but only after Kylo puts Rey’s hair up into her customary three buns and Rey manages to shave with only a couple of small cuts.


	5. Kylo Imprisoned/Force Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy angst and light smut. 👀

He gave up everything. For her. All for her.

She sneers at him and tells him she didn’t ask him to.

Kylo leans as close to the laser wall separating them as he dares. “I sensed from even before we met I was meant to be with you. It’s our destiny. Yours and mine. Can’t you feel it?”

Rey’s eyes and voice are black ice. “You’re deluded. Your destiny is solitary confinement.”

Kylo tilts his head. “Doesn’t having a visitor belie the ‘solitary’ part?”

She shows him her teeth, then leaves. He can feel her long after she’s gone. His soulmate is a golden sun darkened in places by sun spots, wandering amongst the far smaller sparks of light in the Resistance complex.

His mother comes to visit the next day. It hurts too much to speak with her, so he pretends to be asleep, his back facing the laser wall. She doesn’t buy it for a minute. They can feel each other in the Force more distinctly than if she were to embrace him like she desperately wants to. She stands outside of his cell for a long time, only saying the name of her dead son before she leaves. Kylo’s eyes burn and his pillow is soaking wet as he listens to her retreating footsteps.

And then, a short time afterward, Rey is back. He hopes his eyes aren’t too obviously swollen and red. She already brings out so many of his weaknesses; she doesn’t need to know of this one, too.

He’s projecting, he knows it, but he can’t hold back the smug assessment of her reason for returning—“You missed me.”

Rey’s nostrils flare and her fists at her sides tremble. Her mind is awash with anger and confusion and the slightest bit of intrigue. Kylo knows these feelings all too well.

“I can feel you in my head,” she bites out, “all the time. A black hole in my brain, taking in all the light. It’s like you want to swallow me whole.”

He wets his lips. “You make me sound so impressive.”

“How do I make it stop? Whatever this… connection between us is, how do I sever it?”

Kylo stares at her, wounded. “Why would you want to?”

“Answer me!”

“You can’t. The Force wills it.” And besides, he wills it, too; it just so happens that cosmic destiny is on his side and she’s likely to give it more credit.

Rey’s mind recoils and she shakes even harder with mounting anger. She punches in a code in the panel next to the cell and the laser wall falls. Kylo quirks his lips. He won’t try to escape as he knows for a fact there are three more layers of security besides this in the compound, but the girl is foolish to lower any defense between him and her.

Then again, she is the one holding a weapon, something she reminds him of very quickly once she unclips and ignites her lightsaber. In a matter of moments she has the humming blue blade to his throat as she holds him to the wall with one hand on his chest. The heat kisses his skin with its closeness, but it’s nothing compared to the hot blue fire Rey’s eyes have filled with. Even—no, especially—with his life in her hands, she’s lovely.

“If I kill you,” Rey says, looking from his eyes to her lightsaber and back, “you’ll have to go away.”

“You won’t kill me. Not like this. It’s not in your character.” And besides, she must know his ghost would haunt her, always.

She holds the saber even closer. “Don’t pretend to know anything about me.”

Kylo inclines his head as much as he dares to look at her over the saber. “I know everything about you.”

They stay like that for a while, just looking at each other, minds intermingling in a series of heartbeats and purrs, before he reaches up, grasps her wrist, and lowers the saber. Rey allows him, then shuts it off.

She doesn’t move away when he lets go of her wrist in favor of touching her hair, most of which she’d loosened to let fall around her shoulders.

“I don’t want to have anything to do with you.” She shuts her eyes and frowns.

“You know it’s too late for that.” His hand slides over to cup the side of her cheek. “One day, I want you to love me even half as much as I love you.”

Rey swallows, the noise thick and loud in the confined space, but does not open her eyes again. “I could never truly love you.”

The words are razorblades through his heartstrings. Kylo has to fight down melancholic gloom and fiery rage both, in that moment. She can’t mean that.

(He searches her feelings and knows that it’s true.)

His voice is weak and thin and what he imagines Ben Solo’s to sound like when he speaks. “Can we pretend you do? Just this once?”

She lets him kiss her, lets them trade spit the same way they trade thoughts. It’s sloppy and clumsy and beautiful. He kisses her neck, her breasts, her hands—everywhere. She tastes like salt and feels like the Force. This is the body of his almost-killer, of his never-lover. Rey takes it all.

Her folds are honeyed with arousal when she wraps her legs around his head, the sweetness cut by his bitter saliva. She has one wrist pressed over her eyes as if she can’t stand to look at him. He can feel the tension in the hard muscles of her thighs. Her clit twitches when he tells her not to be afraid.

At one point, Kylo bruises her thigh with his fingers. It’s an accident and he’s sorry and he lays his scarred cheek over the purpling skin to prove it. He knows she accepts the apology because she doesn’t rip his hair out when she grabs him by it and crushes his face back against her cunt.

“Did that feel good?” Kylo asks once he’s made her come to many times to count and she closes her legs.

Rey says nothing, staying very quiet and still except for the rapid swell and depression of her little chest with each breath. She spreads her legs again. There are shiny lines of cobwebbing stretched between her thighs.

He obeys the silent demand for more and asks for nothing in return.

She tolerates him holding her through the night. He wraps himself around her the same way he hugged his stuffed Tooka with his whole body as a child. He’s grown far too big for the grubby little toy, now; it wouldn’t even fill his hand. Still, he feels content again for the first time in a while. He means to stay awake to savor having her so close, but he falls asleep without intending to.

Kylo is cold and alone when he wakes up. He breaks two bones in his hand punching a wall. He does it again and again and breaks skin and bone alike. He stares at the smears of blood and fills his heart up with pain in an attempt to force out everything else.


	6. Facial Scar Kissing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written wayyy pre-teeny-weeny scar reveal hence the description of it being different than what we ended up with.

While healed up on the surface, the torn flesh on Kylo’s face and neck is still tender. He can feel with acute awareness the rough pad of Rey’s fingertip sliding along the uneven line of the mark she had wrought upon him. She presses deep into the ugly divot, warned off from breaking the skin with Kylo turning his head away and glowering at her once in a while. Rey never apologizes, just sets her lips into a firm line like the bit of pain caused to him was somehow his fault, then cups his chin in her hand again and thumbs at the scar.

The amount of trust required for him to let her touch him this way is astronomical. Then again, the same applied to how she let him drag her into his lap and hold her in his arms. For the moment, his lightsaber is out of his reach, but he is still very capable of shoving her away with enough use of the Force if she upsets him enough. She reminds him she can do the same when he says as much.

Her other hand holds his bicep, right over where the traitor had managed to get in a wild swing at him. He scowls a little and pushes her hand away from there, switching it to the other arm where she had jabbed him with complete certainty in her actions. Rey rolls her eyes at him and pulls her hand away from where the circular burn hides under his sleeve. Kylo almost drags it back, only to realize she has other ways of touching his scars. She bunches his sleeve up, exposing the remains of the burn, and kisses it.

At once, Kylo grabs the back of her head, anchoring his fingers in the middlemost knot of hair, and pulls her mouth to his face. Rey catches on, pressing her sun chapped lips to the mess she made of his cheek and nuzzling the scarred crease between his eyebrows with her nose. She lowers her mouth to where the scar is at its widest before sticking her tongue out and giving the length of it a long lick.

Kylo leans in to the wet, silky touch against the raggedness of his scar. He throws his head back as she licks her way down to where the mark starts to run down his neck. He half-smiles muzzily, then lets his mouth drop open in a groan as she nibbles at the hard line of his jaw. In the next moment, Kylo cannot help but swallow when she suckles on his neck. He did away with high collars because of the way they irritate his injury, even healed over, and he has never been gladder for it.

Rey presses little kisses back up his neck and face, stopping in her tracks only to peck the corner of his mouth, then returns to the scar.

Mine, Rey insists to him wordlessly as she looks at him out of the corner of her eye.

The Force prickles in tempo with the tingling in his scarred skin.

Yours, Kylo assures her with a grin as she licks his cheek again. All yours.


	7. Obsessive Kylo

There was precious little information to be found about the scavenger girl. As far as anyone knew, she didn’t even have a last name. Kylo Ren made up for this by treating her first name with the utmost reverence. “The scavenger” and “the girl” were all right for his spies to refer to her with, but the minute her monosyllabic name passed their lips they got swiftly reprimanded. The privilege to say her name was his and his alone.

  
“Sir, the girl was spotted at a trading post in the Outer Rim by some troopers. We were unable to capture her, but—”

  
The rest of the pitiful attempt at an explanation for why she evaded capture again was lost on Kylo. He fixated on a holopad extended to him. Once he got bored enough, he snatched it away with a deft pull of the Force, then went to his chambers to examine his newest treasure. He waited until he sat down in front of the altar holding the remains of his grandfather before turning it on.

A stormtrooper’s helmet was on the business end of her staff and her face was twisted into a ferocious snarl. Beautiful as ever. Her hair looked different, twisted into a fashionable braid around the back of her head that Kylo recognized as the work of General Organa. He traced over the curve of her cheek with his fingertip, careful not to disrupt the blue cast of light.

  
“Rey,” Kylo whispered, low enough for his vocoder not to pick it up and twist it with its deep, ugly rumble.

  
He added the holopad to his growing collection. It fit that the fiery-tempered commandant would have a dragon’s hoard he kept watch over. The continual reminders of her existence were more precious to Kylo than the literal riches his father pursued or that his mother grew up with.

  
His preferred ones were the few and far between holopics where the spies managed to catch her outside of battle, the ones where she smiled over something as mundane as a flower or a piece of fruit. As much as he loved to see her happy, it tore at Kylo’s heart to know that she was so easily impressed thanks to her upbringing on Jakku. She did not deserve to suffer so much.

  
Once he had her, he would lavish on her all of the attention that she so deserved. Once he had her, he would know more about her than the scattered bits of information his spies gave him. Once he had her—and he would have her, someday—he would have no need for his stacks of holopads.

  
At the moment, though, Kylo contented himself with turning on a couple of his favorite holopics and staring at them, memorizing every detail of her face in an attempt at simulating seeing her in person again.


	8. Rey saving Kylo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some canon-typical gore in the form of dismemberment at the beginning.

Rey’s mind and muscles scream as she pulls along the weight of her mortal enemy. Kylo Ren is six foot five however many pounds of bulky muscle. Rey is relieved he can at the very least steady himself enough to walk, because it would have been absolute hell dragging his immobile body along on the floor or attempting to drape him over her back.

As things stand, she has one of her arms around his waist while the other holds his dominant arm slung around her neck so he can lean on her. Rey remembered too late that it was the arm with the hand she had cut off. The smell of burnt flesh makes her gag, so she tries to focus on the undercurrent of sweat that has drenched the both of them between their exhaustion and injuries. It doesn’t entirely help, but she doesn’t vomit, so that’s something. The sight of the ragged, ugly stump affixed in one side of her peripheral vision only adds further to her nausea. In the other side is Kylo Ren’s profile, haloed by the light of flare-ups in the Finalizer as the Resistance overwhelms its defenses.

Stormtroopers and officers have filled the hangar as they all attempt to get a transport to flee. None of them pay any attention to Rey or Kylo beyond a glance or two before they run even more quickly. By some miracle of the Force, none of them have discovered and stolen the ship that Rey had hidden when she infiltrated the super star destroyer. She heads toward where she stowed it in one corner toward the front, far beyond the parameters of standard First Order safety procedures, with halting steps.

Rey shifts one shoulder to ward off a cramp, gritting her teeth. The adrenaline had run out a long time ago. He’s so kriffing heavy. It doesn’t help Rey at all that her rescuee keeps trying to fight her. It’s weak, pathetic fighting at this point, little more than half-hearted struggles to get her to let go of him, but it’s enough to deter her progress.

Does he want her to die, even now?

“I’ve never wanted you to die.” His voice is a hoarse, affronted growl.

He’s teetering on the edge of passing out but he’s read her mind anyway. Rey simmers but says nothing.

“You’ve always wanted me to die,” Kylo says, trying to tug his injured arm away from her with a frustrated noise. “What changed?”

Rey readjusts her grip on his forearm. “Stop talking.”

A stormtrooper jostles them, nearly causing Kylo to fall on top of Rey. She scrabbles at the smooth leather of his belt with her left hand before pressing her hand up to gain purchase on his ribs instead. She can feel his heart thudding just above her palm as she adjusts her legs to support him and start walking again.

“Why do you care?” His voice grows less angry and more desperate with every passing second.

“Stop talking,” Rey repeats. “Save your energy.”

Kylo has been brought to a whisper, but his choice of word conveys his desperation more than his voice ever could. “Rey.”

She stumbles and almost falls, this time not even requiring a stormtrooper to run into them to get her off-balance. Cursing, she hauls the both of them back up.

“Rey, please.” Kylo is not quite dragging his feet, but he’s getting there. “I know you feel it too. The Force wills it. It’s my destiny to die here.”

“Sorry,” Rey says, matter-of-fact despite the sweat pouring into her eyes and the aches in her joints and the impending death that awaits both of them if they don’t hurry, “I’m not letting the Force take you today.”

“Why?” Kylo sounds frustrated, but not with his usual fire and instead a quiet, hollow desperation, far less terrifying and far more sad. “I’m not worth saving.”

“Maybe it’s not all about you!”

Rey finally wrenches her head to the side to look at him right in his pale, long, dour face made all the more pathetic by the scar she had given him. He looks back at her dully.

“Your mother and uncle want you back. They miss you. Whether or not you deserve it,” Rey forces out the words out despite the way that her throat begins to ache, “you have a family that loves you.”

The irony that he so desperately pushes away what she wants more than anything is not lost on her.

Rey’s jaw trembles. “I’m not letting you throw them away.”

“They were the ones who threw me away.” He shakes his head, listless. “They don’t want me. They never have.”

“They’ve always wanted you! Why do you think Han…” Rey’s throat burns and she has trouble seeing between her tears and the explosions and the sea of white stormtrooper armor. “…why do you think your father came back for you?”

A sob tore through Kylo, one that caused his whole huge body to shudder against Rey, then another. Rey starts crying, too, because between her own emotions in the Force and his they’re a pit of deep, dark despair with only a tiny ray of hope cutting through it. 

Still, she pushes forward. She can see the corner of her getaway ship.

“No, no,” Kylo begs as he catches sight of her goal too, struggling with more vigor than ever before. “Stop, stop it, please. I can’t—can’t face her. Not after what I did.”

He’s afraid. He’s afraid he’s not strong enough, just like always.

Despite his struggling, Kylo has leaned more heavily on her. She can feel his hot tears dripping on her forehead.

“She’ll forgive you. She loves you. You have to have faith in that.” Rey pulls Kylo Ren the rest of the way, supporting him all the while.


	9. Rey Smells (Good)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I made a Spongebob reference in the chapter title, what of it?
> 
> Written for this anonymous prompt: “Stinky Rey prompts? Kylo's got Rey held prisoner and he let her take a shower but realizes he misses that scavenger smell so doesn't let her shower anymore, but he always swans around smelling like Lavender & Midnight Jasmine and she's like dude those fake smells are overwhelming. He's jerking it with his face buried in her unwashed clothes.”
> 
> Nothing too explicit but there’s nudity and implications of some lewd stuff.

Using a ’fresher in the base on D’Qar was fun and novel. Using one in a star destroyer is tense and cause for paranoia.

It’s one she assumes is used by all of the stormtrooper units, with dozens of shower heads all lined up. There’s no one here now.

Well. Almost no one.

Rey glances out of the corner of her eye at Kylo Ren, masked and guarding the door by leaning up against it. Her skin prickles as she scrubs away sweat and grime from her training. Rey can’t track his eyes thanks to the visor, but she can imagine very well that he’s savoring being able to see her so vulnerable. She turns one way, then the other, trying to decide whether or not she’s more uncomfortable by the idea of him ogling her breasts or her ass or both.

She’s come here in a prisoner exchange. Her for Luke. It seemed like an easy decision to Rey, though her friends and the general were reluctant to give her up.

This is probably one of a good many reasons why, Rey thinks as she looks again at Kylo.

He escorts her to her cell after giving her some clothes. They’re monochromatic and starched to oblivion and First Order issued, but they’re something.

Rey wishes anyone but him were assigned to guard her, especially when he follows her into her cell and removes his helmet. She lifts her chin and doesn’t make eye contact as she does, though she can’t help but notice the thin line of the scar she’d put on his face.

It’s in sharp relief as he approaches her until he’s only inches away. She waits for him to read her mind. Gut her with his lightsaber. Anything.

Kylo leans in. Rey tenses, already planning where the most painful part of his face would be to hit. And–-

Sniff. Sniff.

He frowns, then backs away, dons his helmet, and exits the cell, leaving Rey in bewilderment. There was no soap in the ’fresher, but she’s clean. She can’t imagine what smell he was trying to detect.

Then again, her body begins to smell rank again after a few days. Even in the carefully maintained cool temperature of a star destroyer she sweats a good deal thanks to the exercises she does in the small space. It’s probably also just as a result of being so damn on edge all the time. 

She tries to meditate, tries to find the Force. On occasion, it works. Then her door slams open and Kylo arrives to give her food. He doesn’t talk to her much, seeming intent on it, though a sharp greeting of “scavenger” escapes now and again. Rey tries to come up with new insults every time she sees him.

Her clothes are eventually replaced. Kylo takes the old ones away in a tightly clenched fist. Rey doesn’t get offered another shower.

His presence brings on a headache for Rey in both the literal and figurative sense–beneath the tight layers of dark cloth and leather, there’s something herbal and sweet and chemical. It’s like some horrible synthetic imitation of the flowers and green she smelled on D’Qar and Takodana. Disgusting.

She knows it’s rich, coming from her, squalid as she is, judging her captor for smelling clean, even chemically, but it’s all she can think: disgusting.

Not as disgusting as what she later finds out he does with her reeking clothes.

Recovering them happens quite by accident during her eventual escape; she bursts into a small closet while running from a squad of stormtroopers and finds them hidden. They’re carefully folded; her outfit from the Resistance, her prisoner uniform, and… her rags from Jakku. How in the galaxy had he gotten those?

Rey takes them under her arm and runs off with them, though she later wishes she hadn’t. The minute she’s off in space aboard her stolen ship and gets a chance to examine them, she notices some strange stains. She throws them as far away from her as possible after she notices Kylo’s scent mixed in with hers.


	10. Rey Exposing Kylo's Boobs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated C for CLEAVAGE. I believe this was a reylohardkinks fill.

The black zipper at Kylo’s throat caught the light sparking off of his lightsaber. Rey hadn’t noticed it before. Presumably it stayed tucked beneath each side of the collar most of the time. The stress of battle had caused it to pop out of place and jingle from side to side like a cat’s bell.

It struck Rey that such a tiny device, even in combination with the bulkier clasp of his belt below, could assist in keeping the huge body of Kylo Ren in check. His wide chest, swelling and receding with the stress of his breathing, looked liable to make the seams on his clothing pop and render the zipper useless. All of the pale meat of his pectorals and a bit of his abdomen would be bare to her again. Maybe that was wishful thinking on her part.

Rey knew she should focus. She was two seconds away from Kylo hitting something vital with his lightsaber, as he seemed to be in an especially bad mood, even for him. Nevertheless, her eyes kept being drawn back to the glint of the way that the pull of the zipper bounced off of the teeth of it.

Rey’s own clothes had never had any zippers or clasps or buttons like she saw on what seemed like every single solitary creature outside of Jakku. The closest things to any of that were the buckles on her belt and bag. She realized when she was handed her new clothes that her wrap must have looked like a glorified rag to the Resistance.

And so, the zipper on Kylo Ren’s tunic, miniscule as it was and completely irrelevant to most, held her attention. She had the most absurd desire to use it. Based on the way that the zipper on her pants had worked, she simply had to reach out and pull on it and–

Kylo was caught off guard by her suddenly reaching out toward him, unguarded. For a long moment he did not react at all, his stance frozen in an awkward way and his lightsaber held out to the side. That’s all the time Rey needed.

She unzipped the zipper from his collar to his belt with a satisfying noise. The motion exposed the inner sides of his heaving pecs and the slab of his upper abdomen. The parted sides of his half-open tunic resembled a more exaggerated version of her white v-neck.

Kylo’s pale skin had pinkened beneath his clothes with exertion and the heat of his clothes. He gleamed with sweat. All of this served to accentuate the exposed flesh. As she watched, the blush crept up to his face. He swallowed, and Rey could see the motion of his laryngeal prominence thanks to his collar being unzipped.

There seemed to be nothing but upsides to having his shirt pulled open, at least from Rey’s perspective. It wasn’t as if she was planning on attacking him there with anything other than her mouth.


	11. Force Ghost Kylo Haunting Rey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some gore at the beginning and ghostly sexy stuff later.

  
  


She should have known he would deny the will of the Force. Even death can’t stop him.

A mass of energy clings to her after his corpse lies at her feet. It’s wet and cold and heavy, like fog. Rey thinks it and the numbness that overtakes her limbs is due to shock. If only.

She looks at his decapitated head before she can stop herself and has the sight seared into her mind. His dulled eyes are the same color as the muck spattered on his right cheek from where it had hit the ground, not quite covering the scar. His mouth is slack. His throat had been cut right at the base with her saber and it had been so quick, so easy–

Rey turns away and vomits. She can smell the cauterized flesh, but only just. The fog is in her nostrils, her bile-slicked mouth, her eyes.

The image haunts her that night when she tries to sleep. She’d packed the lightsaber far away from her bed in an effort to forget about it, but she wishes she’d kept it close when he manifests. It might give her some illusion of comfort.

The bluish glow makes him look impossibly larger as he braces himself over her bed. His head is attached to his neck again but his eyes are more lifeless than they ever have been.

Is this a dream? A vision? It’s sickening and she has no idea what it could mean.

“I killed you. You’re dead.” Rey’s hand passes through his arm when she tries to shove it away.

“Yes. And now I’ll always be with the Force. With you,” he says, his eyes splintered ice chips, “forever.”

She does not sleep that night, or the next one, or the one after that, and when she finally collapses it’s midway through a lightsaber swing with Kylo Ren at her back like an overgrown reverse-shadow.

Forever is a long time. She hates him more than she ever had before. His mask had been a monstrous sight, but at least then he’d been solid and real and capable of hurting. Now his bared face in an ethereal, eternal glow is the most frightening thing in the galaxy.

He says things to her, things she believes he’d been too afraid to admit in life. Declarations of love and lust that intrigue her as much as they frighten her, which in turn frightens her more.

It’s probably the sleep deprivation that causes her to make noises of pleasure mixed with a dose of disgust instead of purely the latter when he touches her in bed one night. He’s drawing off of her connection to the Force when he runs semi-corporeal fingers down her spine.

Rey finally snaps and cries out when he palms her ass. It figures that he would discover how to touch the world of the living again and start by groping her.

“Not the world of the living. Just you,” Kylo says, kneading the meager flesh.

The calculating graze against her mind makes Rey grit her teeth. She rolls over, ready to confront him, and is reminded just how large he is. Her punches at his middle and throat hit upon something semi-solid, but only make him sneer. She’d stripped him of the ability to feel pain.

“I should have kept you alive. I should have kept you alive and taken you to the Resistance so you could rot in jail, far, far away from me—”

“Your mistake.” His fingers, still encased in the gloves he’d been wearing when she killed him, are chilled and supple on her hips.

She bares her teeth in a snarl and wishes a thousand more deaths on him, but spreads her thighs willingly as he places his hands on either side of her. The heated wetness between her legs does nothing to melt the permafrost clinging to the ghost, not even when he grows tired of fucking her with his fingers and replaces them with his mouth.

Rey cannot properly brace herself against his not-body; it never seems to hold its shape when she tries to touch him back. He’s at one moment insubstantial as the initial fog and the next more solid than when he’d leaned in and breathed hot bursts of air on her neck as he sifted through her memories. The interrogation table felt like centuries ago. There’s no breath now, certainly no heat, but Rey swears she can smell his flesh burning.

It’s for the better that she lacks the ability to interact in turn. He has enough influence on her post-mortem as it is. Maker knows what she would do if she could give in and touch him as he touches her.

Kylo’s ghost finally leaves Rey alone for one night after he’s satisfied with her, a shivering mess amidst knotted sheets and juices turned ungodly cold. He didn’t let her orgasm. Rey’s hand is too warm and real to finish the job.


	12. Bonded/Coping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proto-Force bond fic written way back before our lord and savior Rian Johnson blessed us by making it canon. I remember writing this while suffering from an extremely horrible headache.

Rip. Riiiiip.

Kylo Ren tears apart the monk’s cloth cowl he has unwrapped from around his neck, bit by bit. The edges of the woven fabric falls to pieces. He sits with his legs crossed in a position far more disciplined than the messy scowl and scar marring his face.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Rey, as far away as the small space in the dreamscape allows, asks.

“The only other thing around here that I can destroy is you.” He says it so matter-of-factly in spite of the inherent tension in his low voice.

Rey lifts her chin. “I’d like to see you try.”

There’s an especially loud tearing noise as Kylo Ren rends part of his cowl almost in half.

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiipppppppppppppppppp

“No, you wouldn’t.” Kylo Ren stares down at the two pieces, the proud line of his shoulders hunching. “And I don’t want to hurt you any more than I have to.”

Rey’s lip curls. They’re both weaponless, as usual, and there’s nothing to do but wait until they wake up. One or two fights have resulted from the repeated situation, the sick running joke the Force has put them through. Well. Maybe “fights” isn’t the right word. Kylo Ren doesn’t seem interested in fighting her. She punched and kicked and scratched at him and he just stayed still like a stupid, dark-clothed bantha and took her abuse. He never laid a finger on her and it was far more upsetting than if he had punched her lights out like she knows he can.

Still, in reality…

Rey thinks of the ache in the nooks and crannies of her brain where she swears his fingers are still pressed, causing it all to throb like pressure on a fresh purple-blue bruise.

“You’re doing a terrible job of not hurting me,” Rey says as she paces, not allowing herself to sit down and attempt to relax as he has.

She’ll be ready when he snaps. Which he will. He has to.

Rip, goes one half of the cowl he’s begun to pick at. “You think you’re doing better?”

“I haven’t taken up the contradictory goal not to hurt my enemy.”

“Contradictory…” Kylo nods a little and Rey supposes it’s as close to an admission she’s right that she’s going to get, only for him to add as an afterthought, “I don’t think of you as my enemy.”

Rey laughs, and it’s a weird, bitter noise, one that she’s always saved for occasions when especially valuable pieces of scrap fall to bits in her hands after she spent hours prying them out of place.

What is wrong with him? Doesn’t he know that the natural order of things is for them to hate each other?

Oblivious of or perhaps ignoring her plight, Kylo says, “I want you to be my ally.”

“Never,” Rey responds, because that’s the right thing to say.

She supposes that in the stories she heard about the Jedi this would be the part where the dark knight tells the heroine that they’re not so different after all, wouldn’t it? He hates her too, right? Kylo is good at sticking to the script sometimes, with his torture and his threats and his offers to join him.

Other times… there’s this. Rey doesn’t know what to make of it.

Kylo growls and shakes his head, then bites down on the piece of cloth he currently has in his hands. 

Rey stops her pacing to stare at him.

His scar stretches grotesquely as he worries the shredded cloth with his teeth. He spits it out, then takes a few deep breaths.

“Are all of your coping mechanisms this weird?” Rey asks, because that’s all she can figure this bizarre display is.

“I destroyed the interrogation bench you were strapped to with my lightsaber when I found out that you escaped.” Riiiiiip goes the cloth.

The entire cowl is nigh unrecognizable, now. Rey hopes that he’ll attack her next and justify every irate thought she’s ever had about him with his own hatred, but he just goes to work on the hem of his tunic.

Rey picks at the edge of her vest, wondering whether or not it will tear as easily. Then she realizes what she’s doing. Her hand balls into a fist. Kylo Ren is the last person she wants to follow the example of. Right? Right.


	13. Kylo sucking on Rey's nips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title says it all. This was written for an anonymous prompt.

In an alley on Tatooine, late enough at night that even the slimiest spice dealers aren’t trading anymore and the temperature has dropped too far for most humanoid whores to be comfortable outside, Rey exposes her breasts to her enemy.

She unzips and parts the sides of her vest to reveal she’s wearing nothing underneath. Kylo has heard stories of female human smugglers baring their bosoms to pursuers and catching them off-guard and evidently Rey has too. She sits down and shrugs off her vest, trying to look indifferent despite the lightsaber hilt she keeps a grip on in one hand. Kylo can see twin splotches of red burning on her cheeks.

It’s a bald-faced attempt to distract him from his mission to capture her, midway through a fight, no less. It works.

Kylo deactivates his lightsaber, drops to his knees, and braces his arms on either side of her torso, hemming her in against a filthy, sunbaked mud wall with graffiti all over it. Then he wraps his warm, slavering maw around her left breast without a second thought. He ignores the hum of her lightsaber inches from his cheek as she turns it on, spreading a ghostly blue light over the dark alleyway. He truly believes she doesn’t want to kill him the same way he can’t bring himself to kill her.

And, kriff, even if he’s wrong, even if she does take this opportunity to lop his head off, at least he’ll die with the taste and slight heft of her breast crushed against his tongue. The mound of flesh is so small he can fit the whole of it in his mouth with only a slight stretching of his lips and loosening of his jaw’s tension. He slurps noisily on it and wrests his head from side to side.

Rey deactivates her lightsaber and drops it once he begins to suckle even harder on her, then gropes at the tit unattended by his mouth. He kneads it in time with the slight presses of his teeth into her. Rey braces her hands against his shoulders. Rather than pushing him away, though, she pulls him closer.

She hisses something that sounds partway a warning and partway a threat not to be too rough. He hums and fucks her nipple with the soft, slimy tip of his tongue, the very antithesis to rough.

Kylo feels secure enough to crush his body even closer to her and grind against one of her legs. Rey gasps. He can feel her thoughts broadcast in the Force. She’s surprised the meager flesh on her chest is enough to turn him on so much.

Of course they do. They’re hers. While Kylo is predisposed to appreciate the compact, firm, perky breasts she has for their practicality and aesthetic, he knows he’d love them all the same if they were plumper, sagging and wobbly. So long as she lets him touch and taste and play, he doesn’t care.

Kylo draws his head away from her breast for a moment. The whole of it, rising and falling in swells in time with each breath she takes, is covered in his saliva. He gives the tip of her tight, erect nipple a nuzzle with the tip of his nose and a little kiss before he turns his focus to the other breast.

Her hands slide from his shoulders to his pectorals at some point and she gives them the slightest of squeezes. Kylo smiles around her tit. His outfit isn’t as simple to remove has her top had been, but she seems determined after a moment of groping him back to pay him back for his attentions.


	14. Kylo Ren is Thicc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEHOLD probably one of my favorite reylo drabbles I've ever written. Written for this prompt from epsilonzero-naught--"Rey associates a common physique as half-starved, with no precious fat to be seen. Expecting such, Rey is enthralled upon discovering a healthy layer of chub covering solid muscle on Ren."

For most of her life, Rey is made up of bone and gristle, as all but the luckiest Jakku scavengers are. 

She begins to put on weight once she leaves the hellish desert and starship graveyards behind her. Her energy level gets higher and she’s able to properly menstruate and the bone-deep chill she'd always felt fades. Her slow recovery from years of abuse has nothing on the lifetime of proper nutrition and training her rival has.

Kylo Ren is big. He’s not the war machine his grandfather had been in any sense, try as he might, but he’s still very big and healthier than an urchin on Jakku could ever hope to be. The illusion of leanness maintained by layers of long black cloth, once stripped away, reveals that he’s not thickened entirely by muscle as hard as the durasteel helmet he wears. 

No, rather than a body made slim by Ren’s misplaced vanity or the First Order’s strict dietary regimens, there’s a fair amount of fat to complement his muscle.

She gets a glance at him with his shirt off during a raid with the Resistance on one of the First Order’s outposts. He’s slick with sweat and armed with only a practice saber when he steps out of a simulator. They had clearly interrupted him midway through training and he’s exhausted. His wide chest is heaving, and… so is the cushiony-looking bit of belly she didn’t know he had. Rey ogles the slight give to his middle and sides, the tightness around upper part of the pants he wears due to having to stretch around him.

She can’t stop thinking about how supple the softest parts of him probably feel long after the raid is over. What she wouldn’t give to knead at the flesh keeping him insulated and safe. It’s a strange mixture of jealousy and admiration that has Rey idly rubbing at the bit of fat that’s begun to form on her own abdomen and trying to picture how his feels.


	15. Baby Rathtar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for this prompt from moodiful819: Kylo and Rey are fighting on yet another planet. At the most inopportune moment, an animal decides these two are now its parents.

  
  


The Millennium Falcon had a stowaway. But it wasn’t R2 or Chewie or even Finn, miraculously recovered from his wound. That would have been reasonable.

No, it was a kriffing. Baby. Rathtar.

The little monster flopped out of a damaged access port of the Falcon’s access port as Kylo and Rey dueled against the side of the hull. Neither of them noticed it at first, but they would come to wonder how it survived as long as it did before inspecting the damage more closely and seeing it had eaten a whole host of ancient wiring with its semi-acidic saliva.

There was a sort of weird nostalgia to battling him in snow again, though this time she was better dressed and the snow was much thicker thanks to Hoth’s climate. Rey’s less than graceful landing of the ship after overshooting the ancient rebel base’s hangar had left her an eyesore on the snowy landscape, easy prey for her pursuer. They drew their lightsabers and fought mindlessly the minute Kylo landed.

After missing her, Kylo cut a wide swath into the side of the Millennium Falcon, very willing to wreak his havoc on what Rey considered to be the single most important YT model freighter in the galaxy. She drove him away from the ship with an outraged cry and a barrage of blows with her lightsaber, but the damage was done.

Kylo’s look of supreme self-satisfaction slid off of his face and shattered on the hard-packed snow as he ogled the space over Rey’s right shoulder.

“Scavenger,” He said in a low tone, extending one hand and shaking his head. “Don’t move.”

Rey scoffed, raising her lightsaber. “I’m not falling for that one.”

His face contorted as he snarled, “Would you listen to me for once, you insolent girl? Don’t–!”

She charged him. Instead of raising his lightsaber to parry her, he quite rudely Force pushed her to the side. Rey didn’t know much about the formal rules of engagement when it came to lightsaber dueling, but that seemed outrageously unfair. She landed on her side in the snow and was scrambling to her feet when she caught sight of what he’d been trying to warn her from.

Kylo wrestled with a tangle of tentacles and eyes and globular flesh about the size of BB-8. It made weak whines far too shrill to be anywhere near human but recognizable as distressed nonetheless.

Kylo made a swing for it with his saber, but one of the many flailing tentacles slapped his wrist and he lost his grip, allowing the weapon to drop into the snow. The rathtar attached itself to the same hand the moment it was free, engulfing it in its drooly little maw. Rey clapped a hand over her mouth, sure that she was about to watch Kylo follow in his family’s long-standing tradition of losing a hand, albeit in a way less dignified than if he’d gotten it chopped off with a lightsaber.

This was all very dramatic, ruined by the dawning realization that the rathar did not have teeth. It made very impressive slurping noises and moved its mouth rapidly around Kylo’s hand, but that was all.

Kylo cocked an eyebrow, then brought his other fist down hard on top of a bundle of the rathtar’s eyes. With a crying sound so pitiful Rey felt something in her heart snap, the creature let go of him, tentacles limp, and dropped like a stone. It landed in a poof of snow. Kylo raised his boot in preparation to squash it.

“Stop!” Rey threw herself over the rathtar.

Kylo paused, then moved back. “What are you doing?”

Rey took off her jacket and scooped the rathtar up. In the few seconds that it had been in the snow, its skin had grown frigid with cold. Rey rubbed it down with the sides of the jacket, encouraged by its slight wriggling in response and a squeak from the gaping mouth, then slid it under her shirt front to share her body heat with it.

“Only you could possibly have maternal instincts over that thing,” Kylo said, scuffing around in the snow for his lightsaber with the toe of his boot.

“Only you would want to take an innocent life,” Rey replied, holding the rathtar in a hug despite how odd she probably looked.

The rathtar still seemed discomfited in her hold, wriggly and squishy and continually wrapping its tentacles around her, but its crying got a little more subdued.

Kylo ceased his searching for a moment to shake his head at her. “Do you suppose Starkiller didn’t have any innocents on it?”

Rey didn’t know what to say to that.

“Besides,” Kylo went on, “that thing will grow up to want to eat people.”

“It’s not out of malice,” Rey said, petting the baby through her shirt. “It’s a rathtar. It’s in its nature.”

Rey never begrudged the creatures that attacked her on Jakku. They were just trying to survive, same as her. Sure, one had attacked Finn and she ended up hurting it in her efforts to keep him safe, but she couldn’t begrudge the whole species over that incident.

Kylo found his lightsaber. It shot up through the air to his extended hand. Rey clutched the rathtar closer to her. She stood and took a couple of steps backward, closer to the Falcon. The rathtar licked her belly and she jumped.

Kylo stared at her. “Why bother protecting it? It’s probably not even sentient.”

“Even if you’re right, can’t you feel it in the Force? Where’s your sense of compassion?”

Kylo laughed bitterly. “Oh, believe me, I have that in droves. Just not for monsters.” 

The moment he said it, Kylo’s eyes pinched, the irony of his own proclamation not escaping him.

Rey turned her back on him and walked toward Falcon. “You can either help me or leave.”

Not that he even cared enough for the former to be a possibility.

“What?” Kylo roared as she retreated. “What do you think you’re doing? Get back here and fight me!”

Rey entered the Falcon and set about getting together as many blankets as she could to keep the rathtar comfortable as she prepared a warm bath in the refresher’s sink. She wrapped the squrimy body and tentacles up in a few layers until it was covered with a loose ball of blankets.

She had no idea what planet the species was native to, but it was certainly not adapted for the below zero temperature on Hoth. She kept it cozied up to her side with every part of it except for its eyes wrapped up.

Her shoulders tensed as she heard the distinctive stomping of Kylo’s steps on the Falcon’s ramp.

“If this is what it takes for you to realize I’m not all bad, fine,” he said, “I’ll help you with your new pet.”

Well. It was a start.

Rey held out the bundle, which Kylo reluctantly accepted. 

“I’m going to go get some ration packs. If you do anything to hurt this defenseless baby, I’m bringing you home to your mother in pieces.”

The absurdity of their informal truce did not escape Rey, but she was more concerned with the survival of the rathtar than the logistics of how it happened.

  
  



	16. Apodyopis + Gymnophoria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for this anonymous prompt: Apodyopis + Gymnophoria. aka the act of mentally undressing someone + the sensation that someone is mentally undressing you.

She’s trembling like a piece of prey.

The soft little mounds of her breasts are heaving with her rapid breathing and her pulsing heartbeat. Kylo can see it even with the barrier of her clothes, but it would be better if that cloth was not wrapped so thoroughly about her. 

Half of a dusky nipple is visible under the slant of her wrap where it pokes against her shirt.

How sweet. She’s cold.

He’s immune to the chilly temperature of the base under all of his layers, but her light desert wear is not shielding her from it. How much would her skinny little body quiver if he stripped her bare?

  
  
  


Rey squirms in what limited movement she has available to her in her restraints. His eyes won’t stop roving over her. Did he strap her to this table to dissect her, to take her apart? 

Then his eyes pause on the curve of one of her breasts and she understands. Stars, he might as well be grabbing it, sinking his fingers into it, for how hard his gaze is.

At least she isn’t naked. 

But she could be. She’s at the monster’s mercy and that burning lightsaber and those big hands would make quick work of her clothes. 

Alien heat pools in her belly and a blush rises across her face and neck, battling the cold of the room.


	17. Mask and Glove Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex stuff. Written for an anonymous prompt asking for mask and leather glove play.

“Take it off,” Rey says the moment their bond opens and she’s greeted with the sight of molded chrome winking at her in the darkness.

“Or what?” The modulated voice that sounds decidedly more like Kylo Ren than Ben Solo asks.

She doesn’t have an answer as she can’t think of a conceivable threat. She used to be so good at coming up with them, especially where he was concerned.

Rey continues to contemplate the answer as the cold muzzle presses to her cleavage. His hands slide her pants partway off and knead at her buttocks. She twines one arm around his neck while her free hand seeks the mechanism to disengage his mask. Her hands feel clumsy compared to the confidence with which he squeezes her with the supple leather. She can’t seem to find the catch, whether it’s because it’s too small or because of the fire warming her belly as he gropes and nuzzles at her.

Rey rolls her hips once, seeking to rub her crotch against one of his thighs. Kylo makes a noise something like a moan or a growl, the vocoder makes it hard to tell. The vibrations produced by the helmet rumble against her chest. He wedges his thigh between hers and uses the hands on her arse to push her against it. The pulsing in her clit increases to an outright throb as she grinds down, seeking to get through the layers of clothes to him.

Rey lets her hand drag across the crown of his helmet, giving up on finding the catch to get it off. It’s ugly and cold, but it feels good when her nipples catch on the molded chrome brow. She tears her v neck a bit wider so that she can press both breasts to the visor.

Kylo withdraws his leg, leaving her hissing at him and clawing uselessly at the place where his neck seal meets his helmet.

He lets go of her arse with one hand in favor of grabbing her cunt. Her labia are crushed together in his smooth, warm grip. His glove is slickened in seconds. Rey imagines that even with his mask on he can smell her arousal. The thought has her pussy pulsing in his hand.

Kylo loosens his grip, then presses his fingers inside of her. They are welcomed with a gush of juices.

Rey decides she doesn’t hate the mask as much anymore when he lowers his helm to make that moaning, vibrating rumble against her clit.


	18. More Kylo Boob Stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for references to violence and gore but pretty tame by my standards. Also breast play. Because I write a lot of reylo breast play.

Kylo Ren is the first human Rey’s ever witnessed survive a rathtar mauling. Finn had come close, but being dragged around by a tentacle and being submerged in the toothy maw were two very different situations. It had only been flailing with his unstable lightsaber that saved him from death. Well, that and Rey’s presence.

It requires being cut out of his shirt and all the bacta patches onboard the Falcon, but he looks like slightly less of a wreck now, the worst of the injuries covered. There were hairpin scratches alongside deep, debilitating cuts where the teeth managed to sink in deeper during his escape from the rathtar’s maw. It’s a miracle his guts and face, minus the lesion Rey made herself, managed to stay intact.

Rey didn’t imagine playing nurse to Kylo Ren of all people, but she doubts she could leave anyone in this condition. Thus, he’s stretched out in one of the beds on the Falcon, his large body somewhat cramped in the nook and one leg hanging off. Rey is knelt alongside.

Although the danger has long since passed, Kylo’s chest is still heaving what Rey can only assume is leftover adrenaline and some anxiety with having his rival have her hands all over his naked torso. She brushes her thumb over one of his nipples while smoothing down a bacta patch over his ribs. It’s an accident, but it feels interesting. His are a different color than hers, less puffy, more flat, and attached to a chest that’s a pleasing balance of hard and soft. She does it again.

Rey thinks she’s being subtle, but the tension in her body or her rapidly pulsating Force signature must give her away. Kylo’s eyes are shut, so she’s startled when he grasps her wrists and flattens her hands across his chest.

“What are you doing?” Rey asks, trying to disguise how her heart feels like it dropped through her stomach.

“You saved my life,” he says, peering at her through his lashes. “The least I can do is entertain your curiosity.”

Kylo smiles with half of his mouth. She expected anger, indignance, maybe, but he’s acting as though he had planned all along for her to feel him up. His smugness makes Rey want to punch him more than anything, but that would require taking her hands off of his tits.

She’s further reassured after a moment of squeezing that Kylo’s pecs aren’t rock hard. There’s a decent layer of fat over the solid muscle, smooth and supple with a bit of give that prompts Rey to knead them like a loth-cat. Despite the blood loss and the cold in the cabin, his chest has retained heat. There’s only one cut that managed to get that high on his torso, to the upper right side of his chest, easily avoided.

Rey attempts to fan her hands out far enough to cover the entirety of each side (she can’t). The irony that her loathsome rival has a bigger, meatier chest than she could ever hope to have doesn’t escape her, but she finds it hard to be jealous when he’s letting her grope him.

She refocuses on his nipples, circling over the areolas with her thumbnails. They’re pale pink, which seems far too delicate of a color for him, particularly alongside the dark beauty marks and tangle of dark hair. Rey glances up at Kylo’s face as she pinches the tips of nipples between each forefinger and thumb. His broad chest heaves a little as he takes a shuddery breath.

This is a one-time deal (probably), Rey reminds herself as she nibbles her own lip. Might as well milk it for what it’s worth.

She tweaks his nipples in an attempt to coax him to moan—he doesn’t, but she’s rewarded for her efforts by his eyes sliding shut again and his teeth sinking into his lower lip. Rey takes it a step further, trying to catch him unawares, and releases his left nipple from between her fingers to lean down and take it into her mouth instead.

Rey hears his heartbeat stutter against her forehead when she starts sucking. She thumbs at the other nipple as she mouths at the other one. The small nub is difficult to wrap her lips around, so she ends up imprinting a dark bruise around the circumference rather than on the nipple itself with her suckling.

Kylo moves a little, only to aggravate his wounds with a cry and stop. Consequently, Rey stops in favor of just laying her hand out on the right side of his chest and leaning her cheek on the left.

Her tits are pressed to his left bicep, prompting him to ask if she’ll let him worship her chest in turn. It’d only be fair.


	19. Cape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bite-sized pure fluff.
> 
> "could you write something about rey wearing kylos cape w out his permission, and he tries to get mad at her but she looks so ridiculous/cute that he just cant"

Rey had stolen and cocooned herself in his cape to keep herself dry. Her excuse that all of her clothes aren’t suited for inclement weather is put into question by the fact that she’s also bundled in her hooded cape. From a distance it might just look like an irregular lump of fabric; every part of her body but a little space for her face is covered.

To make matters worse Kylo knows for a fact that there are a number of porgs that she’d let snuggle up with her underneath his cape and he’ll be picking feathers out of it for weeks.

He pretends to sulk beneath a tree a ways away and hides his smile with his hand when one of the porgs pops up beneath her chin before changing its mind and burrowing back down into the fabric.


	20. Kylo Saving Injured Rey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fill for a request for Kylo taking care of injured Rey post-TLJ. Mild gore, blood, and some medical stuff.

Rey’s pain is blasterfire in Kylo’s guts. From across the battlefield, high above the main conflict inside of his shuttle, he feels it tear through him.

She shouldn’t be here. He should have sensed her.

The tension that accompanies their bonding feels heavy in the air and he sees her just in front of him, blood drooling around the fingers on the hand that she has clasped to her abdomen. Her teeth are set in a snarl and her eyes are fogged over with pain. She’s looking at him without seeing him and doesn’t answer when he demands to know where she is. Then she’s gone.

“Sir?” Tavson asks, half-turning away from the controls of the shuttle.

“Take us down,” Kylo says, shaking.

Tavson doesn’t ask anything further and the rest of the crew is more than used to the supreme leader’s surges in emotion by now. They remain fearful, however, unsure of which of them will be the target of his ire. That fear is thick in the cabin, but it’s overwhelmed entirely by the hurt exuding from Rey.

Kylo gives orders for them to stay put once they’ve landed behind a ridge, far away enough from the heart of the battle that they’re unlikely to be attacked but close enough that he can conceivably return. One of the crew hands him a medkit when he demands it. He circles around to the front of the ridge, shuts his eyes, reaches out with his feelings, trying to sort through the chaos to find Rey. The sound of blasters and battle cries fades into the distance. His eyes snap open.

There. On the edge of the battle and fading fast. She’s getting away.

Kylo follows her into the woods bordering the battlefield, too concerned for her to consider the irony of the location, to remember how they first met. Soon the sound of war is a faint echo.

He finds her blood trail before he finds her, more black than red on this planet’s soil. When he finds Rey herself, she’s curled up in an irregularity at the base of a tree, pressing a too-small patch of bacta to her wound, hissing between her teeth. Her skin is ashen.

Rey goes for her lightsaber when she realizes that he’s there and tries to stand. The weapon slips from her blood-slicked hand and she collapses back down with a half-gasp half-scream.

Kylo outspreads his hands as he approaches her. “I’m here to help.”

“I don’t want your help,” Rey says, shaking her head.

Kylo crouches, suddenly aware of how threatening his huge body must look from her point of view. Even so, she reaches for the lightsaber again. Kylo pulls it to his hand with the Force and for once she is far too out of it to even attempt to take it back from him. He holsters it without a second thought and reaches for the medkit instead. He all but rips it open. Rey curls up into a ball to shield her wound from him when he reaches for her.

“Please don’t fight me,” he says, “not now.”

Rey’s bleary eyes hold on his gloved hand for a long second. Whether from exhaustion or simple scavenger’s practicality, she lifts her arm to expose the wound. She had already torn apart the lower half of her shirt to get to it. Kylo knows that she’s going to need more medical help than he can offer, but a patch job will have to do for the moment so he can bring her to one of the First Order’s medical facilities. She’ll hate that, but it can’t be any worse than having him work on her.

Once he cleans off some of the blood, he realizes that it made it seem worse than it is. It wasn’t a blaster that had gotten her, as he initially thought, but a slash from a vibroblade. Wide, but not deep. Her organs feel intact when he feels at them with the Force. The skin has to be sewn up. His stitches are clumsy and uneven and he hates himself for every pained cry Rey makes.

Kylo makes hushing noises like his mother did when he came home with scraped knees and hands and elbows. In a moment of daring, he presses his lips to her forehead. This situation is far more extreme and he feels childish for doing it, but it has the same effect. Rey relaxes. With a pang he realizes that her parents had probably never done anything of the sort for her.

Rey leans against his chest as he smears bacta over where he had knitted her back together. One of her hands alights on his thigh to keep her balance. Any other time and he would have been electrified at her touch. Now he’s just worried about how much she’s trembling.

“You’re warm,” she gasps, listless, pressing her face to his neck.

“You’re freezing,” he says, gingerly wrapping his arms around her.

She lost so much blood, despite his best efforts. He wraps her up in his cape and carries her in his arms toward the shuttle, trying to share as much warmth as he can.

Kylo can’t hear the sounds of battle anymore. The silence is eerie, broken up only by Rey’s tiny gasps.

Just before he reaches the ridge where the shuttle is hidden, she calls out to him and writhes in his arms, panicky. “Ben. Ben.”

“Stop moving, you’ll break your stitches—” His heart throbs against his ribs, against her side.

“I’m going to die.” She tries to sit up in his grasp. “But I want to… just once…”

“You’re not going to die! I won’t let—”

Rey presses the tiniest, most pathetic kiss to his chin. Kylo stops in his tracks, stares down at her. He kisses her full on the lips, holding her close enough that they are in danger of melting together. She’s fainted by the time he opens his eyes.

The crew onboard the shuttle recognizes the girl in his arms, the same girl that Kylo Ren had taken from Takodana, albeit in far worse shape and held far, far more tenderly.


	21. Period Cramps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is meant to be the continuation of another fic written by @moodiful819 that you can find [here.](http://moodiful819.tumblr.com/post/156817390516/cobwebbing-dustoftheancients-replied-to-your)
> 
> Warning for period stuff, obviously, but nothing too explicit. Very floofy.

Rey is in deep space, alone, sitting with her legs crossed in the pilot seat of the _Falcon_ trying to meditate. She sips a drink called hot cocoa that Master Skywalker had given her and nestles one of her cheeks into the cloak she received from Kylo Ren. It feels almost traitorous to be enjoying both of the gifts at once, but… his scent, contradictory to all logic, calms her. His cloak, heavy and warm, smells like electrical burns and ashes and musky sweat, offsetting the chocolate. It helps her forget the worst of her curse, at the best of times—

(She knows what it’s called now, that it’s not the work of the Maker or of Jakku’s goddesses and instead simple biology, but ‘menstruating’ and ‘period’ ring too clinical in her mind to use them to describe the pain that squelches her guts every month.)

—and at the worst of times she remembers that she had received help and been asked nothing in return from her enemy.

Rey shuts her eyes, inhales deeply, and tries to stretch out her senses beyond those of her body. The Force does not allow her to escape the pain in her belly that easily, though. Despite her attempts to separate herself from it, there is no escaping it.

Nor can she escape the familiarity of—

Her eyes snap open. She very nearly spills hot liquid all over herself in her panic and anger.

Off of the starboard, a black starship with massive wings exits hyperspace and comes to a halt in full view of the _Falcon._ Rey has no doubt who it is.

What is he doing here? What does he want? Rey wonders, touching the fabric around her neck. And, most unnerving, how had he found her again?

Surely he’s come to attack her while she’s weak. The last time he had mercy was just a slip in judgement. Rey sets down her mug of cocoa and gets to her feet, only to immediately double over. The cramp passes, but only after she feels the slide of a hunk of bloody tissue on top of the rag she’s stuffed into her underwear.

Gritting her teeth, Rey slides her lightsaber out of her pack. The hilt feels cooler than usual in her hand, still warmed by its previous encounter with the mug. She hobbles to where Kylo Ren’s shuttle aligns with the port side.

For a moment she dares to hope he won’t be able to get on. YT model freighters aren’t designed to board or be boarded while in the vacuum of space. She feels the _Falcon_ shift as something latches onto it from the outside. Apparently his ship is equipped. Of course it is. Always invading the lives of others and leaving them dead or worse. Except, of course, for where she is concerned. Somehow she’s garnered the favor and attentions of a monster.

“You kept my cloak,” Kylo says when he boards.

His lips twitch in an almost-smile. Rey wishes she had just burned the ragged piece of monk’s cloth.

“Come with me,” he goes on, extending a hand.

Rey scoffs and keeps a thumb on her lightsaber’s activator. “No.”

He side-eyes the interior of the _Falcon_. “I don’t want to be in here.”

Rey’s heart hurts to complement the hurt flaring in her belly as she thinks of Han. “And I don’t want to be onboard a ship that you could potentially capture me in.”

“You don’t think I could just commandeer this ship if I wanted to capture you?” Kylo’s scar crinkles as he starts to sneer, then he takes a breath and it smoothens out. “I’m here to help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

She’s fine. She’s not scared anymore. She can suffer the temporary torment of her body well enough alone.

Rey waits only long enough to see him curl and uncurl the hand he held out to her in a fist. She can feel his anger radiate through the Force as she returns to the cockpit. Unfurling his cloak from around herself, she deposits it on the floor. Once more, she coils up on the seat, wrapping an arm around her middle and using the other to bring the mug to her with a bit of a superficial use of the Force. She feels sweaty and tired all of a sudden. If only he hadn’t shown up and made her feel like she needed to get up.

Kylo’s boots clomp as he goes back on board his ship. The noise does nothing for Rey’s headache and her eyes pinch. Then there’s silence for a while. She dares to hope that he’s gone for good when the clomping returns.

He sits down in the copilot seat, arms bearing a number of things that he splays out on the control board. Rey feigns disinterest, but peeks at them as she massages her temple.

An odd, wobbly pouch, a couple of little bottles, one filled with liquid and another with pills, a number of her favorite fruits, and a bar of chocolate. All of the small, brightly-colored items look woefully stark in contrast to the huge, black-gloved hand that carefully arranges them to his liking between the _Falcon’s_ controls.

Rey does not know what to make of the objects. “You think these will help me?”

Kylo nods and picks up the bottle of liquid. “I’m going to massage this onto your stomach.”

Rey shrinks back in her seat. “What?”

“It’s got lavender and clary sage with pain-killing compounds for exactly this sort of thing.” At her questioning look, he elaborates, “Flowers.”

Could flowers do that? Not for the first time Rey bemoans the severe lack of them on Jakku beyond tiny, scraggly things that were quickly swept up by traders.

He pops the lid off of the bottle and scents that overwhelms both the smell of Rey’s cocoa and his cloak flows from it. The liquid smells flowery and soft and it’s baffling for the fearsome Kylo Ren to have such a thing in his possession. He peels off his gloves before dumping the shiny liquid onto his palm—oil?—and rubbing it around to warm it up.

“My mo—” A dark expression crosses his face. “—General Leia Organa used something like this as a home remedy. I think I replicated it fairly well.”

Maybe it’s the cramps or the Force or some other third thing that addles her judgement, but for whatever reason Rey finds herself saying, “It’s not too late, you know.”

Kylo rubs his hands together more roughly. “It’s far too late.”

“No, it’s not.” Rey sets down her mug on the floor and tries not to look at him. “You doing this for me is evidence alone that there’s still light—”

Kylo bangs an oil-slickened fist against the control board and Rey startles, jostling her insides and causing her to feel even sicker than before. She hunches over, feeling a bit of cocoa and bile rise in her throat. She claps her hand over her mouth and tries to choke it back down with as much dignity as she can. There’s a long moment before she lifts her head and makes eye contact with Kylo again.

Guilt wars with anger on his face. “Take your shirt off. I’m… I’ll make it better.”

“No. I was wrong to think any better of you.”

Guilt wins out and he looks remarkably like a kicked dog.

They both sit there simmering for a long few minutes. Rey eventually gets bored with a prolonged staring contest they have at one point and eats one of the fruits he brought along. If it’s poison, it’s nothing she can taste. She breaks into the chocolate, next, because she hadn’t quite gotten sick of the taste after the cocoa, and eats a couple of squares. There’s a lull in cramps, probably not as instantaneous as she’d like to believe from the things he’d brought, but well-timed, certainly.

Kylo, meanwhile, seems to relax a bit at the sight of her eating. His oil-slickened hands glisten in the starlight and the scent of it still hangs heavy in the cabin. Rey eyes his hands. They’re the color of sun-bleached bones, a far cry from her own pallor, evidence that he keeps them covered with those gloves most of the time. Somehow she’s unsurprised he removed them for her. His fingers and palms are squarish and calloused. These were the hands of a man who had and would probably continue to do her a lot of damage.

Or they could help, Rey thinks as her innards twist with a bit more pain.

It’s not that she doesn’t want to have his hands on her. The opposite is the truth and that terrifies her. Rey decides to compromise by not pulling off her shirt completely like he wants. She keeps her vest on and rolls up her shirt to her ribs, giving him very little room to fit his huge hands on top of her abdomen.

Kylo takes the hint immediately, getting up out of the copilot seat and kneeling in front of her before placing his hands on her belly. It’s a bit swollen and tender to the touch and Rey winces. She notices at once that the difference in size between them is exaggerated enough he can cover nearly all of her middle. Her insides pulse, taking away her sense of intimidation at how kriffing big he is in favor of focusing on the pain, before he starts massaging her. Kylo sets to rubbing away the soreness, being sure to cover every inch of skin on her abdomen. It tickles, a little, but mostly it’s wet and smooth and near-therapeutic. His fingers stroke and dig in to her belly in turns. He’s a bit rough, but not overly so, and takes the hint to be a little softer when Rey tugs on his hair.

Rey’s headache ebbs. Even knowing that, she is surprised when her eyes begin to flutter shut and her chin dips. Kylo removes his hands. She startles back awake, only to find he’s picking up his cloak, bundling it, and placing it behind her head as a pseudo-pillow. He goes back to rubbing her belly immediately after.

The pain from her bleeding is still there, most definitely, but it seems muted with his ministrations and food and strange, ham-fisted attempts at being compassionate.

Rey likes the situation, after a fashion, in a different sort of way than when she’d been alone. She decides she has enough confidence in him to let him eat a chocolate square out of her hand. In the same vein, she doesn’t fear for her safety when she relaxes enough to start to doze again. She trusts he only wants to help her.


	22. Rey Force Feeding Imprisoned Kylo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what it says on the tin. Written for this prompt: Anonymous said: i don't know if you're still taking Gross Fic Prompts, or if the tactile aspect of feederism is even your deal, but. One of Reylo hand feeding the other and getting all up in their mouth, feeling along their teeth and gums, maybe doing something like fingerfucking their mouth till they're drooling all over themself? (/shame)

Rey has a very, very angry Kylo Ren kept prisoner in the Falcon’s cargo hold. Encountering and defeating him in wild space were not activities she expected to do during her mission, but she has resolved to drag him back home after being given this opportunity. Every day she wonders if it’s worth it.

He struggles in his bonds and snarls with all of his teeth whenever she enters. At one point he even thinks it wise to spit at her. All this earns him is a kick in the gut and neglect for an entire day of space travel. He’s more compliant after that, if only for the brief time that he desperately needs to have Rey let him out of his bonds long enough to relieve himself in the ’fresher. Even then, he’s much more moody and dangerous than usual.

All of that would be fine, except for one glaring factor.

He won’t. Kriffing. Eat.

She’s tried threatening him, swearing up and down in every language she knows, and, once, in a moment of weakness, begging him. He just stares at her with his stupid soft lips pinched shut and his eyes burning with scorn. A food strike seems to be his only way of effective protest. He draws it out for days. Rey has long since given up on simply leaving rations near him and attempts at least once daily to shove food down his throat with a spoon. 

It never works and she ends up eating everything herself.

At this point she doesn’t even think his body can handle solid foods, so Rey appears in the cargo hold with a bowl of gruel in her hands during her latest attempt. 

The hungry sound deep in his gut in response to the smell of the gray slop is almost sad. Rey squelches her pity after reminding herself he’s bringing his own suffering upon himself. Willingly starving. She hadn’t had the luxury to turn down food on Jakku.

Rey sits down in front of where she’s tethered Kylo on the floor. His arms bound behind him around a thick pipe and she’d stuffed a makeshift gag in the form of a rag ripped off of her tunic in his mouth shortly after the spitting incident. 

He radiates contempt as she reaches forward to untie the gag and extract the sopping wet ball of cloth. Instead of biting her like she half-expects, he rolls his tongue around in his mouth and wets his lips.

Kylo Ren looks rough. Really rough. Despite being given all the time in the world to sleep, he looks like he hasn’t gotten a wink. The stubbly start of a beard testifies to Rey’s hesitation to get near him with a razor.

“I’m thirsty, scavenger,” he says, lifting his chin and looking down his nose at her like the brat he is.

Water is the only thing he’ll accept. As if he’s fasting. As if there’s any real point to what he’s doing aside from pissing her off.

“I had to mix water into this,” Rey says, gesturing to the gruel.

“What is that?”

“The only thing on this ship your screwed up organs are going to be able to digest without making you sick.” Not that she cares about him getting sick, more so that she’ll have to clean up the mess if he vomits all over the cargo hold. “Open up.”

Predictably, he doesn’t. So Rey goes with Plan B.

She knots one hand in his hair and yanks on it, causing him to cry out in pain and shock. His dark locks have gotten greasy with the many days on end he’s gone without bathing during his imprisonment. It’s gross, but nowhere near as gross as his mouth. It reeks. Nevertheless, she stuffs her other hand halfway into it.

Kylo gags and dry heaves. His eyes dart around, at once panicked. His tongue lashes against her fingers, velvety-soft and wet and so very different from the sharp, unyielding bone attempting to bite into the intrusion. Rey pulls on his hair again.

He glares at her with his eyes nearly squinted shut. Still, his jaws loosen their grip on her and his incisors stop sinking so far into the back of her hand. In a moment of misplaced trust, Rey idly pets his hair.

Kylo’s narrowed eyes darken and he chomps back down on her hand even harder than before. She feels every divot in his teeth in bruising clarity. It takes releasing his hair in favor of sinking her nails into one of his tender ears and yanking on it to get him to let go. She feels more than sees the sting of a few places where he’d broken the skin in her hand. His hot, putrid breath huffs around her wrist.

“You can’t keep it together for even a second, can you? Kriffing animal.” She boxes his ear.

Kylo growls and shakes his head from side to side.

Rey turns her hand to an angle, wedges her pointer and middle fingers between his upper and lower molars, and pries his mouth open further. She lets go of his ear and reaches for the bowl. Before he can even think of biting her again, she takes a handful of gruel and crams it into his mouth.

The slightest taste of food after so many days without puts his salivary glands into overload. Within seconds Rey’s hand and wrist and Kylo’s chin are dripping with his slaver. Rey feels her gorge rise, but she presses the food to the back of his tongue. Natural physiology kicks in and he swallows. His laryngeal prominence bobs repeatedly as he attempts to swallow the excess saliva down too. He only ends up choking and hacking.

Rey waits for him to stop before feeding him more. And then some more after that.

Something stirs in her gut when he begins to lick up the gruel of his own volition, slippery tongue tickling between her fingers. He can’t be chasing the food; it’s revolting in texture and flavor. He does it even after she’s scraped the bowl clean.

He’s still very, very much angry, but it’s muddled with a sick sort of pleasure now. His eyes are hazy.

Rey knows she should just leave. She has finished what she set out to do–her nerve burner of a prisoner won’t starve. 

Something keeps her there, though.

(It’s probably the tiny moan in Kylo’s throat when she forces her fingers back almost far enough to touch his uvula but not quite because she doesn’t feel like having him get sick all over her.)

She starts playing with him for as long as he allows, rubbing along his soft lips with her thumb while her fingers spread out over his tongue and teeth and slot between his gums and the inside of his cheeks. 

He’s drooling even more now. It puddles at the corners of his mouth, arcs down his chin, and soaks his collar. 

His pale cheeks have long since grown flush with shame and anger, but his eyes slide closed with what Rey might call contentment if she didn’t know any better. Resignation, more likely.

The reason for why he continues his soft licking and readiness for her to fuck his mouth with her fingers remains as unclear as his overactive emotions.


	23. Porglo Ren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff to offset the last one.

Rey might have missed where a lone porg huddled beneath some fallen rocks if not for detecting it with the Force. She thinks the bird is stuck and shoves her hand inside of the crevice without thought, earning a nip for her trouble.

“Ow!” Rey glares at the tip of her finger where the sharp little teeth had drawn blood.

In what Luke probably would call a blatant misuse of the Force, Rey lifts up the rocks to reveal the porg. He puffs up his little chest and cheeps defiantly at her.

He’s a juvenile, so he doesn’t have all of his adult feathers, giving him a patchwork appearance between smoothness and fluffy baby down, but even so Rey can see why he was hiding. Along the line somewhere a mutation had happened and given him dark feathers.

There’s a claw mark ripped dangerously close to one of his big eyes, still caked with partially congealed blood. The other porgs on the island must have rejected him.

Rey had seen it happen with steelpeckers on Jakku–an oddball baby bird would get beaten up by the others. She managed to save a couple of them and nursed them back to health, feeding them a steady diet of the metal that they craved, carefully grooming their feathers, and assisting them in learning how to fly until they could be on their own.

Taking care of a porg couldn’t be much different. She’s already helped with rearing some of the chicks that had hatched on the Falcon.

She ends up having to wrap the temperamental little thing in her cloak to keep a firm hold on him so she can bring him on-board the ship. He struggles and lets out trilling noises of distress the entire time. Cleaning up the wound on his face is a pain, but he calms down when Rey feeds him a meal of chopped up fish.

“Now I know the way to your heart,” Rey says, throwing another little piece for him to gobble up.

She keeps the porg in one of the storage rooms so that the others won’t beat up on him. He always looks a bit broody and put-out when she visits, as if jealous she didn’t spend all of her time with him, but his discontentment always melts with time. The bird makes a little warbling noise and shuts his big eyes when she grooms him and removes pin feathers to reveal fluffy black adult feathers.

Maybe it’s just his dark feathers or the scar, but Rey can swear he bears a resemblance to someone…


	24. Pregnant Rey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for this request: If you ever feel like writing a tiny bit of VERY pregnant and full of life Rey and "Im proud of my work here, but also a little scared of fatherhood" Kylo, well you know it'd make my day to see your take on it ;]

Rey loses all sense of grace when her center of gravity shifts forward to her middle. It’s just a little bit of a hassle when she has a tiny baby bump. Then she gets bigger. That little bump has to go and quintuple in size and her whole body suffers for it. Feet splayed, knees out, back arched. Everything becomes a lot more painful and a lot clumsier.

It’s impossible to be upset with her baby over it, though. Any time she’s about to get truly agitated, Rey rubs a hand over where her belly bulges off of her and reaches out with the Force. Just a moment spent mingling her consciousness with theirs has her feeling warm and safe and calm. She tucks the feeling deep in her heart and everything feels right with the galaxy.

With that feeling still warm in her chest, Rey waddles like a particularly plump porg around the Resistance base set up on Hoth to perform her duties. It’s a tight fit, but she can still slide beneath ships to work on the hardware, swollen middle pressed to the hull. She’ll talk with her friends during breaks. She and Finn have gotten really good at hugging while being careful not to squish her belly. After she’s done with that, she practices with her staff, making allowance for her offset balance. 

By then it’s late in the day and she studies the Jedi texts she’d stolen from Ahch-to. She props herself up against the headboard with a small pile of pillows and lets the bottom of the book rest on the curve of her belly.

One day the dry reading is mercifully interrupted by the Force bridging her mind with Kylo’s. She puts aside the book when she senses it beginning and her heart swells when she actually sees him.

Rey knows she should be terrified, or angry, or some other third negative emotion when she sees him sitting on the edge of her bed. She feels nothing but an aching, longing sort of love. Not even the dark side of the Force seeping from him can put her off, though she’s sure to shield the baby from it.

Kylo not-so-subtly stares at her middle, ogling the wide strip of skin peeking from beneath the hem of her shirt that is not at all designed for maternity. It’s been months since he’s seen her, so the change must be dramatic for him. 

He reaches for her, then pauses. “Can I..?”

“Only if the glove comes off.”

Kylo scoffs but nevertheless indulges her, revealing his lily-white hand, then leans down before smoothing it over her belly. The baby kicks, empathetic. He takes off his other glove and frames the round shape in his hands, unable to span the whole of it even with his hands spread out. Rey in turn threads her fingers through his hair, unable to resist the opportunity to feel its softness, his softness, after such a long time away. She looks down to see him still marveling at the size of her belly.

“Your mother said you were a really fat baby, so I guess I can blame ours being so big on you.” That and her short waist making it appear bigger.

She says it lightly, but Kylo tenses at the mention of Leia.

He flexes his fingers. “Does she know? That I’m… that I…”

“I think she does. The rest of the Resistance doesn’t, though. They seem to know better than to ask.”

He’s quiet. Then: “Are you going to deliver soon?”

“Yes.”

Rey disentangles her fingers from his hair in favor of resting her hands on top of his hands. Kylo flips one of them to hold one of hers, then squeezes it.

“The Resistance has old tech. That includes medical tech.” Rey knows where this is going, but she still bristles when he says, “When you go into labor, you should be brought to one of the First Order’s facilities.”

She pulls her hands away. “No.”

“Rey–”

Rey flattens herself back against the headboard, pulling away from him as far as she can. “I’m not going to put myself in a position where you can have me pumped full of drugs and hold the baby hostage.”

Kylo’s temper flares for the first time in clear outrage. “I would never do that to you or to our baby!”

The burst of anger doesn’t last for longer than a few moments. Kylo lowers his eyes and his voice gets raw.

“I would never do that,” he repeats. “I just want you to be safe. Both of you.”

Rey forces herself settle down again, then reaches out to grab his hand and place it back on her belly. She lets her mental shielding around their child drop. Kylo sucks in a breath. Rey knows he’s feeling what she’s felt so many times: the Force thrumming strong and clear; the hope.

“We’re going to be fine, Ben,” she says.

Kylo shakes his head. “If the rebels don’t take excellent care of you, there’ll be hell to pay.”

He presses a determined kiss to the side of her belly. Rey doesn’t doubt it.


	25. Rey Masturbating Through the Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for this request: fic idea maybe perhaps: i just want awkward force bond sexy feelings, like rey's jacking it and kylo's like ????? what and then it just debauches from there. or one of them has to play it cool in public while the other one is doing force fuckin and they can feel it idk
> 
> Fun fact, this is the first thing I wrote post-TLJ. I hope Rian is proud of me.

Kylo can see her out of the corner of his eye. To him it appears that she’s splayed across a console on the bridge of his ship.

“Supreme leader?”

The call to attention can’t hope to compete with his fixation on Rey. The officer addressing him is doomed to wander off while he appears to stare at nothing.

“What are you doing?” Kylo whispers under his breath despite it being abundantly obvious what she’s doing.

Rey knows he sees her. She’s giving him that look. It’s not the one that screams she hates him, the murderous monster, he hasn’t seen that one in a while. No, it’s the one that says deep down she wants him. 

He likes it. He likes it a lot. He just wishes that she wasn’t giving him that look right now.

Her pants are missing and her shirt is rolled up to expose her breasts. The fingers on one hand are buried in her sopping cunt while the other hand works at her clit, crushing it with circular motions.

Kylo’s dick is throbbing in seconds. His tunic disguises his erection, but the other effects she’s having on him are plain to see.

Most obviously, his breathing quickens and deepens to match hers. Distantly, he can feel the crew on the bridge staring at him. He needs to leave or he’ll start moaning like her, too. Right on cue, Rey throws her head back and makes a heart-melting, trembly moan. Kylo has to swallow the noise rising in his own throat.

He might think she’s shameless if not for the heat coloring her face and her upper teeth sinking into her lower lip after the fact. She’s burning herself up trying to torment him. Foolish girl.

Never mind that his fairer skin is probably showing the blush much more distinctly.

Rey removes her fingers from inside herself with a wet, shiny gush of fluid and a gasp. She examines her slickened fingers for a moment, panting, then engulfs the digits in her mouth. Kylo swears he can taste her on his own tongue. It gets worse. She suckles. And she drags them in and out of her mouth. And she stares right at him.

Kylo’s hands work in and out of fists. He’s already planning how to get her back for this.


	26. Rey's V-neck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can never have to many drabbles about boobs. This snippet was written right after Rey's new outfit was released amidst antis screeching about how evil reylos were for sexualizing her. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Rey’s neckline is plunging. Despite his looser collar since last they met, Kylo Ren finds that he’s having trouble breathing. A solid quarter of each of her breasts is showing, softly sloping down into the harsh V the edge of the shirt forms.

To top it off, Rey isn’t wearing anything to support her breasts, at least not that he can recognize. She must have been doing some space travel recently. As a result, every movement she makes is accentuated with jiggling from the softest parts of her body. 

The visible quarters of her breasts quiver when she makes a swipe with her lightsaber at him. For a long moment, he’s convinced one of her nipples is going to slip out of the precarious position the lack of a bra and the steep neckline have put them in. Then the moment is over and he gets his wrist singed before he has a chance to yank it away.

It starts raining and things get about two hundred times worse.

He can make out the outline of her areolas within seconds, pale brown. In the next minute she’s soaked clear through and her nipples are entirely visible. The shirt is made so sheer by the water that he can see freckles. If he tears his attention away for a fraction of a second, Kylo can also see her grit teeth just a ways above and knows that she is feeling no such distractions.


	27. Kylo Cuddles While Asleep

Rey is awoken by his bangs tickling her nose. It’s odd that that’s what wakes her up and not the fact that she’s crushed up against Kylo Ren’s wide torso in a tight hug. 

The first thing she notices after his vice grip is that he’s wearing a nightshirt. She tries not to be disappointed.

His flesh feels so warm and real she almost believes he’s really there on her bunk rather than light-years away. The clear split between the planet she’s on and the ship he’s on is well enough of a reminder of the contrary.

She should squirm and kick out and scream for help at the risk of looking crazy to Luke. She doesn’t and instead does the far more foolish thing: reaching out to return the hug. She drapes one arm over his side and slides the other over his shoulders, behind his neck. Her heart is pounding like it’s attempting to escape her chest.

He’s going to roll over any minute and crush her to death under two hundred something pounds of his massive body, she just knows it. But in the meantime she can enjoy this–

He grunts and shifts right on cue. Rey braces herself. He pulls her in a little closer to him, enfolding her more securely, then rests his chin on top of her head. With a great sigh, he relaxes again. Rey remains tense, then begins to unwind, then finally tucks herself into his grasp and shuts her eyes.

Somehow, some way, after a few minutes she falls asleep too. But her dreams belie the calm of her bedmate. Therein his warmth turns to a more smoldering heat. Her hands rest on his bare chest, glistening with sweat, and it’s his heart that’s pounding like mad. She’s not just up against him, she’s full of him. Achingly full. Everything feels so good and any of the guilt that she might have had in waking doesn’t exist here.

When Rey wakes up again, there’s light streaming in through the hairline cracks of her hut, her thighs are honeyed with the evidence of her dreams, and the other side of the bed is empty. She curls her arms around herself in a hug, unsure if it’s to keep from touching herself or a desperate attempt to replicate his touch or both.


	28. Gruesome Rey Injuries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a good bit of gore in this one, have caution. 
> 
> Side note, one issue that I've always lowkey had with the ST is that Rey doesn't sustain a lot of battle damage. Not that I want her to get as messed up as she does in this fic, far from it, but it doesn't feel like there are a whole lot of things at stake when she's only ever gotten a couple of bumps on the head and a little cut while Kylo and Finn are getting beaten to a bloody pulp. Is it because she's a lady? I feel like it's because she's a lady.

They’re on the field of battle. And they should be fighting to kill. He knows that. She knows that.

Still, he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t mean to. If it were up to him they’d be far away from the war zone, alone, safe, off on some planet in deep space where not even the Force can control their destinies.

But it’s not up to him, and fate is cruel, and the wound is deep.

In his head, the jagged slash is meant to graze her torso and get her to cease fighting long enough for him to sweep her away. There will be a scar, a reminder, just like the one on his face, but she will be fine.

That doesn’t happen.

His lightsaber bites into her flesh with a thick noise that muffles the unstable blade’s usual crackle. It is a lupine bite into an avian body; devastating.

The scent and sight of burning cloth and meat rattle Kylo’s senses, but he’s prepared to keep fighting. It’s Rey’s scream that cuts through the red haze of anger. And he realizes what he’s done.

Rey stumbles back a good fifteen feet away before she falls. She sinks to her knees, lightsaber dropping from her hand. It’s not the sort of injury she can fight through. Kylo doubts he could, either. A long stretch of char extends across each of her biceps and her small chest. Rey stares at the thin trails of smoke rising from the wound with her face twisted in one of pain and anger, but her eyes are far away when she looks up at him.

The battle rages on around them, but Kylo only has eyes for her. He takes one step forward, then another. Rey tries to scramble back, only to make a small, garbled death-noise and curl in on herself.

On some level, he knows how it feels. He’s burned himself on his ramshackle blade before, back when he initially had to get used to the quillons. It stings and eats at the flesh like a disease, leaving everything melted and raw. He once had half of his wrist devoured near to the bone before getting medical attention.

Kylo won’t let it get to that point. He’s going to help her, like it or not.

And he would have, but, impossibly, the entire situation gets even worse in the next minute.

He doesn’t make it to her by the time a rogue grenade goes off. It’s not right next to her, rather in the thick of a squadron of stormtroopers, but it’s not far away enough, either.

He’s knocked off his feet and onto his back. The air suddenly leaves him and he can’t get it back. But even as he gasps uselessly and sees blasterfire continue to pelt the air over his head he can only think of Rey and how she’s suffered worse.

Eventually, Kylo gets to his feet. His lightsaber is gone, his ears are ringing, and there’s coppery blood gushing onto his tongue from where he’d bitten the inside of his cheek. He forces himself to walk, regardless. Everything is sore or throbbing or stinging, but he knows even before he sees her that Rey is in far worse shape.

Unfortunately, he’s right. The lightsaber wound that had seemed devastating before is now nothing compared to the seeping cuts and mottled bruises all over her body. There’s blood pouring from her abdomen around a massive piece of shrapnel and her leg is at a strange angle. She’s not moving.

Some tiny selfish part of his brain—no, if he’s honest it’s a large part—is glad that at least he isn’t directly responsible for this injury. It’s the Resistance scum who blew up their own powerful, beautiful soldier.

He sinks to his knees, then sits down as he gathers her body in his arms as gingerly as he is able, brutish warrior that he is. Her head lolls like a doll’s.

Kylo presses his fingers against her neck, feeling for a pulse. Nothing. There’s nothing. Panic claws around in his ribs and skull.

No, no, no, she can’t be dead, not Rey.

Kylo pulls his hand away and buries it in his thicket of hair. The other balls into a fist that he sinks his teeth into, trying to contain a sob. Or maybe a scream.

The leather tastes bitter. He remembers too late his thick gloves would make it impossible to feel her pulse if she did have one. He bites down on the fingertips, heedless of the pinches to the skin beneath, and wrestles it off.

His bared fingers are pressed to her neck again. For once their skin tones match—her sun-kissed skin has been turned a sickly, pale color. And yet, he can feel blood still thudding through her veins, though it’s slow as molasses. 

Kylo swallows, trying to regain some sense of calm. It doesn’t work.

He probes her wounds, trying to see if he can remove the piece of metal. Even unconscious, Rey still cries out when he hits upon a shredded tendon. Kylo retracts his hand.

“It’s okay. I’ll make it better,” Kylo says gruffly, paining himself further with memories of his mother using similar phrasing when he came home with scraped knees.

If only Rey’s injuries were as simple to heal as applying a bacta patch to each knee and a kiss on the forehead.


	29. Masked Kylo Fucking Rey with a Dildo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the chapter title speaks for itself.

They’re probably from the officer’s lounge. A place where Kylo has walked into decidedly unprofessional behavior more than once and killed the mood with his mere presence. Or maybe stormtroopers sneak them around beneath all of their plastoid armor to hide under their mattresses later.

Whatever the case, Rey has a significant portion of them. All of which are packed into what little space there is available on the floor of the cockpit of the TIE she’s attempting to steal. His TIE.

Kylo picks up one of the more sizable dildos, uncaring about the possibility of some ’trooper’s fluids being on it thanks to his glove.

Then he raps the silicon scrotum against the headrest. “Going somewhere?”

“Are you going to try and stop me?”

She sounds short of breath, but she doesn’t flinch. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she planned this.

He circles around to find she’s naked, pussy leaking juices all over his chair as she crushes her clit with harsh rubs of her fingers, her rangy body spread wide. Her little breasts are heaving and the muscles in her abdomen twitch as she touches herself. 

Oh, she definitely planned this.

The hot blush melted across her cheeks and neck war with the perverse grin on her face. Kylo’s grateful for his mask hiding what is sure to be a blotchy mess on his own countenance.

Kylo’s eyes drop back to the sopping apex of her thighs, the swollen labia flush and shiny. He’s already throbbing himself, but he knows he wouldn’t last a minute inside of her.

He looks back at the dildo he had grabbed, then at her entrance—

“I can take it.” She sounds insulted that he would think otherwise.

“Are you really that eager to be filled with cock, scum?” His helmet provides a confidence to his tone that he doesn’t feel, even looming over her as he is.

“Yes, Kylo,” she moans, shuddering, spreading her lips apart with her pointer and middle finger.

Oh, that does it.

While he’s wary of putting himself beneath her, Kylo has to kneel to reach between her legs.

The thick hair is saturated with juices, slick and glittery. She’s so wet that the head of the dildo slides into her without so much as a bit of resistance but instead a welcoming squelch. Then the shaft, then the silicon balls are pressed up against her twitching asshole.

“Kylo,” she says again.

He’s able to start fucking her hard with it almost at once with no resistance, in, out, in, out. She’s thumbing at her clit as he fucks her up until he shoves her hand away and starts rubbing it with his own gloved thumb.

Rey squirms and whimpers, grabbing hold of his cowl. Kylo wishes it were his hair, but he refuses to stop and remove his helmet. He has some half-formed excuse about teaching her a lesson in his head but it’s far surpassed by his thoughts of grabbing one of the bigger dildos from what she’d stolen and using it on her instead.


	30. Sexy Interrogation Scene Teasing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this when I had had six shots of vodka so uh that may have affected it somewhat.

The entire situation gives Rey a sense of deja vu. Captured, strapped to an interrogation chair, and staring down Kylo Ren shortly thereafter.

That said, the major differences in the interrogation are as follows:

  1. a) This time, she knows exactly where she is and where the others are.



  1. b) Kylo is not looking for the map to Luke; he wants the location of the base that houses the remains of the Resistance.



  1. c) His pale visage stares down at her when she awakens rather than his ghastly helmet tilted upwards.



  1. d) Rey no longer wants to kill him.



  1. e) She’s woefully attracted to him. Maybe even loves him.



“Do you really think that this is going to work?” Rey asks, conversational as she tests her bonds.

She hopes he doesn’t see that her nipples have stiffened into fine points beneath her shirt. This room feels even colder than the last time she was in it.

Kylo doesn’t appear to notice. “I don’t see why not.”

“For one, I’ve grown stronger since the last time you tried this,” she says.

“So have I.”

Kylo leans against the side of the interrogation table, settling his muscular bulk an inch away from her. The device creaks with the combined weight of the both of them.

Unblinking brown eyes flit all over Rey’s face. She wonders what he’s looking for. Without thought, she licks her lips. It draws his gaze for an instant, then he drops his attention from her face altogether.

Kylo lifts his hand. Rey squeezes her eyes shut in anticipation of him forcing his way into her mind. Instead, he grabs one of her breasts, stroking his thumb back and forth over the tip of her nipple. Her eyes snap open. The fabric of her shirt scrapes against the sensitive skin. Her insides feel warm.

“Not even a handful,” Kylo murmurs.

Rey snarls. This is new. He hadn’t touched her before, not physically.

“What are you doing?” Rey struggles in the restraints.

Kylo grabs her other breast and squeezes it none-too-gently. “Taking what I want.”

He pinches her nipples between each forefinger and thumb and pulls.

Then he kisses her. Rey chomps down on his plush lower lip at once but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. The tang of blood flows free between their mouths.


End file.
